Slide to the Left, Slide to the Right
by infinitely-climbing
Summary: Rose is a volleyball player. When she breaks her ankle during a match, she's forced to stop. Two years later, she's back again and ready to go—on one condition: she must take private lessons from Dimitri Belikov, the new varsity coach, whom she's instantly attracted to. Can she get her head in the game without leaving her heart on the sidelines? AU/AH :slightly OOC
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first multi-chapter story that actually follows a definite plotline, so...R&R? And it may be a little heavy on the volleyball terminology in some areas, later in the story. Sorry. I'll try to explain at the bottom of each chapter, but feel free to ask if I miss something, or there's something else that confuses you.**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

"So I am to understand that you would like your scholarship back?" Headmistress Kirova, or just Kirova as I like to call her, said, frowning. She'd been headmistress of St. Vladimir's Academy, the seventh-to-twelfth grade, year-round, six-days-a-week private school that I'd been on athletic scholarship on until the end of the volleyball season sophomore year, when I'd broken my ankle.

I nodded. "I know I haven't played for St. Vladimir's in two years, but I've practiced. And I'm sure I could be just as good as I was before."

She didn't look convinced. "I need a guarantee, Miss Hathaway. Yes, you were a great player, but this is a top high school, and we don't give away scholarships easily. Especially not athletic ones."

But I needed that scholarship. With an MIA father and a mother who might as well be, I would be hard-pressed to find the money to pay for such an expensive private school. Sure, my mom probably had a lot of money from her work in the CIA. But it wasn't money I would take. She couldn't play mom only when necessary. I'd managed to get student loans for the two years, but if I could get my scholarship back and if the volleyball team won the state championship this year, the debt would disappear.

"Please, Ms. Kirova. I really need that scholarship." Yeah, I hated acting like a good kid. But in dire circumstances, I could do it.

"I'm sorry, Rosemarie, but there are many other great athletes vying to get in, and they have not been out of practice for two years." My frustration level was rapidly rising, and I was worried that I'd say something I would regret soon.

It was then that a voice spoke up from the back of the room. "She has potential."

I whipped around to see a really tall guy—maybe six-six, six-seven—standing at the back of the room. He had dark brown eyes and shoulder-length brown hair, and was strikingly handsome. A light Russian accent laced his low, smooth voice, making him that much more appealing.

Kirova cleared her throat. "Ah, yes, this is our new varsity coach, Mr. Dimitri Belikov."

Oh, so he was a teacher. Off-limits, then. It was kind of a shame.

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say. _Hi, nice to meet you_ seemed like a safe option, albeit simple. I opened my mouth to say it, but he simply nodded in acknowledgement of me and said to Kirova, "I watched her in the gym. If she's been out for two years and still plays as well as she does, she could easily be the best setter that St. Vladmir's has ever seen."

"Wait—you were watching me?" I cut in, feeling a strange mix of being both flattered and creeped out. In retrospect, I probably could've chosen my tone better, since I sounded less surprised, more indignant. It probably didn't tip the scale in my favor.

"Still, she hasn't played with an actual team for two years, and while the skills may still be there, the teamwork may not be," said Kirova. "She's a senior now. She might not be ready to play at varsity level."

"You can't tell until you actually give me a chance!" I exclaimed, my frustration getting the better of me. "It might still be there, but you won't give me the chance to find out!"

"And what if it is _not_ there, Miss Hathaway? Then I have just wasted a scholarship to a student who cannot better the school for it!" she snapped.

My anger flared. Who was she to say that I couldn't better the school? She might as well have said I was a waste of space.

Once again, I was saved from saying something that would destroy my chances of getting in. Belikov interjected his opinion.

"She can easily be assimilated into the team. They have played together since seventh grade. The real issue is if her skills are up to par."

What I said next, I probably shouldn't have said.

"Who are you, anyway? Outsourced help?" I snapped. "You don't even know me!"

Considering that he was trying to help my case, I didn't really benefit from lashing out at him. And it definitely sunk my approval rating. Luckily, no one responded to me.

Kirova rolled her eyes. "The season starts in eight weeks. If her skills aren't there, it would be hard for her to even make tryouts, let alone get a scholarship."

"Give her private lessons," he said, like it was the most obvious solution in the world. To him, it probably was.

Kirova narrowed her eyes. "And who's going to give her private lessons? You?"

He looked taken aback for a moment. Great. I barely knew the guy and he already didn't want to work with me. It wasn't to say that I wanted to work with him, but still. With my brash personality, I'd given plenty of bad first impressions before, but never been rejected so quickly.

If there was a non-romantic rejection timing thing, I probably just got the world record.

To my surprise, though, he didn't shake his head fervently or scream, "No!" Instead, he just nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I'll give her lessons."

Even Kirova looked shocked that he'd actually agreed to mentor me. I was probably the last person in the world anyone would want to teach.

But she didn't reject his proposal, either. She just sighed, pursed her lips, and said, "Fine. You will be taking private lessons with Coach Belikov starting tomorrow in both the mornings and the afternoons before and after classes."

"Meet me in the gym at 5:00 am in the gym before classes and come at 3:30 after. You'll have Sunday mornings off, but come at the same time in the afternoon," he said nonchalantly.

I gaped at him. "Five o'clock! But I'll have to wake up at 4:30! And 3:30 gives me barely any time to get to my dorms and change after classes!"

He shrugged. "The mornings will end at 7:20, so you'll have forty minutes to shower, change, and eat before class. And as for 3:30...if you are truly too slow to get to your dorm and back in half an hour, then bring clothes to the gym and change there."

I was sorely tempted to call him a variety of names that were certainly not school-appropriate, but for once, I held my tongue.

"Take it or leave it, Rosemarie," said Kirova.

I grimaced. "Fine. I'll take it," I growled.

Kirova sighed. "It looks like you have your scholarship back, Miss Hathaway. Please, do not make me regret agreeing to this."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

**After three long days, volleyball tryouts for school are _finally _over, and I made the Freshman A team! I was so happy that I sat down and typed this all out for you guys.**

* * *

The next morning, I was woken up by the annoying beep of my alarm. I resisted the urge to throw it at the wall, but only because Lissa had managed to stay asleep through the incessant noise and I didn't want to wake her up. The girl slept like a rock, which was good, considering that I wasn't the quietest person in the world.

I sat up. The room was still dark, and I glanced at the clock. _4:30_. What the—?

Oh, right. I had private lessons with the Russian.

I sighed and crawled out of bed, changing into a T-shirt and spandex, along with knee pads and crew socks. This time, I also put in Active Ankles in my shoes. There was no way I would get hurt again, at least not if I could help it.

I yawned as I walked to the gym. The sun wasn't up yet, and it was colder than I thought it'd be, but I wasn't complaining. Yet. The cold helped shock my body into waking up. Still, I wished I had eaten more than just a banana and a muffin, considering that I could eat triple what Lissa ate. A 20-gallon jug of coffee sounded good, too.

Too bad we can't all get what we want.

* * *

I walked through the double doors to find Belikov sitting in a chair, reading a western novel. Country music was playing, but by the time I had walked over to where he sat, the song had changed to some 80's crap. Admittedly, I didn't like most of the mainstream stuff either, but this was horrible.

Dear. Freaking. God. How old was this guy?

I hadn't realized that I'd spoken until he looked up and said, "Twenty-four." Talk about awkward.

Seven years older than me? He may have had the body of a twenty-four-year-old, but it appeared that, on the inside, he was about sixty.

Give or take a few decades.

"Stretch out. It would be bad," he commanded, "for you to pull a muscle right after getting your scholarship back."

I didn't respond, since I couldn't figure out if he was being sarcastic or not. It _would_ be bad, but considering that I hadn't been an angel during my persuasion of Kirova, he might not share that sentiment. He had the perfect game face: stoic, yet intimidating.

Actually, he just had the perfect face. And body—

No. No. He was my teacher. My seven-years-older teacher, who listened to bad music and read bad books.

My teacher who was, admittedly, super hot. And totally off-limits.

I stretched, trying not to think about him. Of course, I just thought about him more, but I figured that if there was a God, or karma, or something like that, they would appreciate the effort, at least.

Besides, even a blind girl would be attracted to him.

Stop. Focus. Breathe.

After I was done stretching, he simply looked up from his book and said, "Now go run a mile around the track."

Now, a mile really isn't much for me, but this was volleyball, not cross-country or track. Also, I didn't actually like running that much.

"What?"

"Go run a mile, Rosemarie."

Instinctively, I glared at him. I hated my full name. "I go by Rose."

He rolled his eyes. "Go run, Rose."

I scowled and did as he said.

* * *

By the time I finished the mile, I was tired. Running in knee pads and Active Ankles was harder than one would think. The pads limited knee movement, and the Active Ankles added weight to my legs.

I turned to walk back into the gym, but to my surprise, my new mentor was outside, holding a stopwatch.

"7:36," he said. "Not bad."

I didn't grace his comment with a response, and began walking towards the gym. He followed.

* * *

Once we got inside, he instantly got me working in setting against the wall, first with both hands, and then with each respective hand by itself. That wasn't too bad.

And then he made me do other things against the wall. Things that I had never done before, like spinning 360 degrees while setting, and sinking down to sit in the Indian position before getting back up.

It was bad. If he'd had a good impression of me initially, I was sure it was gone now. And we'd gone through the wall in only fifteen minutes.

He might as well have confirmed that he didn't deem me worthy enough to _really_ practice, because for the rest of the time, he had me practice footwork. I had never really learned a particular way of moving to the ball, and it probably _would_ make me faster, but seriously? Couldn't he let me at leach touch a ball, apart from the wall sets?

Regardless, by the time he stopped me to condition, I was plenty tired from running everywhere on the court. It was nothing, though, compared to what I felt like after conditioning.

It was basically an endless loop of doing approaches, blocking, sprints, pushups, crunches, and a bunch of other exercises that I'd never heard of.

After what felt like the millionth crunch, he finally told me to stop. _Thank God_, I thought. It was finally over.

* * *

Except that it actually wasn't. After a day of uneventful classes, I got to run to our dorms, change, and run to the gym. I got there early, so I started in on my homework while I waited for Belikov.

Eventually, he came through the double doors that led into the gym. I glanced at my watch, which I'd brought because I hadn't wanted to be late.

"You're late, Comrade," I said breezily.

He raised an eyebrow. _Damn_, I thought. Not only was that something I'd never been able to do, but it also made him look even better, if that was even possible. "Comrade?"

"It suits you."

He gave me a look that seemed to say _I doubt your sanity_, but didn't pursue the subject. Still, I continued. "It could be worse."

No response.

"If you don't want me to call you that, that's fine, but I probably will anyway. Or I'll end up calling you 'Belikov' all the time like some drill sergeant."

Finally, he responded. "You can call me Dimitri."

I grinned cheekily. "I think I like 'Comrade' better, but I'll keep that in mind."

He ignored it and continued, "And I'm not late."

"My watch disagrees."

I heard him mutter, "And you say I'm old?" under his breath. Louder, he said, "My phone doesn't. And phones are more reliable."

"Your phone could be broken."

"Or your watch is early. Phones rely on satellite signal."

"So your phone is screwed up, or the satellite is."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and shook his head, muttering something in Russian.

"Go stretch, Rose."

I smirked, secretly pleased to be eliciting such a reaction from him, and began to stretch.

* * *

My good mood vanished right after I finished stretching.

"Go run a mile."

"Couldn't we skip the running? I don't need to run twice, do I?" I said.

Much to my dismay, he didn't agree with me. Or kiss—

_Shut up, Rose_.

He laughed.

I was absolutely dumbfounded. Why was he laughing at me?

"Why are you laughing?"

He immediately sobered up and looked at my expression. "Oh. You were serious."

"Of course I was!"

He looked like he was still trying not to laugh again, but to his credit, it was pretty hard to see, since he had put his game face back on. "Go run."

Screw my life.

* * *

Once again, he made me practice against the wall and do my footwork for two hours. Then the same intense conditioning.

This guy had no imagination.

By the time we were done with tuck jumps, I was ready to collapse onto my bed. "Can we skip the rest of this and do it tomorrow?" I groaned.

He answered my question with another. "How are you feeling right now."

"Like shit. A very sweaty, disgusting, sore piece of shit."

He looked at me in amusement. "And how are you going to feel tomorrow during training?"

"Like a sweaty, disgusting, more sore piece of shit."

"So you won't be feeling good?"

I gave him my best _Are you stupid__?_ look and answered, "I'll be feeling even worse. Shouldn't you already know this?"

"So you should be doing this now, while you're feeling...less bad," he said nonchalantly, completely ignoring my question

I groaned. "What kind of logic is that?"

"Knowing you," he replied dryly, "probably a classic example of Rose-logic."

I couldn't argue with that, so I rolled my eyes and began my five-minute-long plank.

* * *

I thought that after our conditioning was over, he'd let me go. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, said the girly voice in the back in my head), he didn't.

"Did anyone teach you how to dive?" he asked.

"Did anyone need to?" I asked. "I thought it was a human reflex."

"I'll take that as a no."

"Comrade," I said, noting the unreadable expression that crossed his face. "I think it would be bad if I didn't know how to dive."

He grabbed a ball from the cart. "I am going to throw this ball far away from you, and I want you to dive for it."

"Okay?" What was he trying to prove?

He tossed the ball low, aiming for the back corner. On instinct, I ran for it, but it was too low, and I dove. I managed to get it, but when I looked up, Dimitri didn't look thrilled.

"You're diving wrong."

I gaped at him. "How is there a wrong way to dive?"

"You're diving on your knees."

"That's what knee pads are for," I said slowly.

He ignored my jibe and continued. "You won't be able to get up as quickly, and it doesn't help much. You move more slowly. You dive forwards, and land on your hips."

"Wouldn't that hurt?"

"Yes. But if you move fast enough, you probably won't have to dive. Also, you need to learn how to roll and get back up."

I tried not to look too displeased. "So you're giving me diving lessons? Sorry, the pool's on the other side of the campus," I replied snarkily.

So much for masking my displeasure.

He didn't seem mad. "Yes. And we're starting now."

So for the next hour, he made me dive again and again, and roll to my side to get back up and out of the way. By the end of the lesson, I hadn't noticed too many changes other than the bruises that were forming on my hips.

"You can go now," he eventually said, right when I was thinking I would punch him if he made me do it one more time.

I could've hugged him.

"We'll continue practicing your diving tomorrow."

Or not.

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	3. Chapter 3

**If you're wondering why FF said I updated and an error popped up, it's because I deleted the prologue and combined it with chapter two, which is now chapter one. *****The last update is now chapter two.***** So the URL changed and the link was invalid.**

**Did that sound as nerdy as I thought it did?**

**Anyway, I realized that I should've combined chapters and then updated; sorry for the screw-up!**

**This chapter is a little short. Sorry.**

* * *

The next day, I woke up in pain. I felt like I'd just been run over by a train.

To add to my misery, I was exhausted and still had to drag myself out of bed. One of these days, I was going to get back at Dimitri for making my life so hard.

But I managed to make it to the gym without collapsing. I sent Dimitri my infamous death glare and began stretching, trying not to wince as I did so. I don't think I fooled him into thinking I was fine, but it was worth a shot.

And so the torture began. For the next week, I woke up every morning, sore as could be, and dragged myself to the gym, where Dimitri would be reading and playing his crap music. I'd stretch, and then, invariably, he'd make me run, and time me. Then, we'd head back to the gym to do my wall sets and my footwork, and then we'd condition. After classes, I'd change and go back to the gym to stretch, run, wall set, and practice my footwork some more. Then we'd condition and I'd practice diving.

I thought my hips would stay purple and bruised forever, and that I'd always be sore, but it got slightly better as the week wore on. Much to my dismay, he tried his hardest to stay stoic throughout practices, although I did catch him muttering to himself after I would try to weasel out of running or conditioning.

* * *

During class one day, one of my guy friends, Mason, came up to me. Mason had had a massive crush on me since last year, but I'd never been able to return his feelings. Still, we were close. He was on the boy's volleyball team, along with a few more of our friends.

"Hey, Rose, can you come to our study group after classes?" he asked.

I sighed. "Who's in it?"

"Lissa, Mia, Eddie, Adrian, Jill, and the new girl, Sydney. You in?"

I smiled wryly. "I would, but I'm stuck with my Russian jailer."

To my surprise, Mason didn't ask why I'd bother to ask. Instead, his eyes grew wide.

"You're training with _Belikov_?"

"So?"

"So the man is a god. He would've made the Olympic team, except that he decided to teach instead."

I raised both eyebrows, since I couldn't raise only one. "He gave it up? Just like that?"

Mason looked sheepish. "He also broke a few ribs in a car crash."

"I expect a full explanation from you next time, Ashford," I said, pretending to be angry.

He grinned. "Good luck with him. You're gonna need it."

* * *

That afternoon, when I walked in, I wasn't greeted with the sight of Dimitri reading. Instead, he was practicing his jump serve. And holy crap, he was _good_. I didn't think it was possible for someone to hit a ball that hard. Also, the tight T-shirt he was wearing showed off his muscles quite nicely.

_Stop it, Rose_.

"You _are_ a god," I said, awestruck.

He stopped. "What?"

Immediately, I blushed. "Nothing."

He gave me one last confused look before saying, "Stretch."

* * *

After running, he told me that my time was now 7:05.

"Why do you care so much? It's not like I'm going to run a mile in a game," I said.

He gave me a look. "Say the ball isn't close to you. What do you do?"

"Um...I pass it up to the hitters?" Was this a trick question?

"It's too far away for that accuracy."

"I dive?"

He facepalmed. "How do you get there?"

"What kind of question is _that_?"

He glared at me. "You run, Rose."

I wasn't about to give up. "So why aren't we doing sprints instead?"

"Because you'd still need to warm up before sprints."

"Yeah, but not a _mile_!"

"You're getting faster, regardless, and this saves time." His tone indicated that he was done arguing.

I stomped off to the gym, disappointed that I still had to run.

* * *

"Can I just play?" I asked, trying not to whine.

"Later," he said. I'd been asking him all week, to no avail.

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

I got the feeling that he was starting to get exasperated.

"Twenty more crunches," he said, effectively changing the subject.

I got the message and shut up.

* * *

During dinner, I was interrupted in my complaints to Lissa by a hand falling on my shoulder. I glanced up to see Jesse Zeklos, popular guy and flirting extraordinaire, standing right beside me. Once upon a time, I'd had the _biggest_ crush on him, but I'd gotten over it. Still, I could appreciate the merchandise without really wanting it.

"Hey, Rose," he said. "Are you free tonight?"

I was, actually. I'd managed to finish all of my homework after showering.

"Maybe," I said, trying to sound bored. "Why?"

"Can you help me with my homework? We can meet in my dorm."

Now, Jesse might have really needed help with his homework, considering that he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Still, I knew that he didn't want my help. At least, not badly enough to actually work with me. You didn't go to Jesse Zeklos's dorm to do homework.

You went there in hopes of getting in bed with him.

I didn't actually want to sleep with him, but I figured that one night of fooling around, minus the sex, couldn't hurt. And it might get my mind off of Dimitri.

"Sure," I said. "On one condition."

His face fell ever so slightly, but he considered it. "What's the condition?"

"No sex."

He grimaced, but didn't protest. "Fine. Be there at eight." And with that, he left.

Lissa stared at me in shock. "Rose, what have you just gotten yourself into?"

"I don't know," I replied, and I really didn't.

* * *

At eight, I showed up at Jesse's room. Girls weren't allowed in boys' dorms, and vice versa, so I was taking a risk by being there. Still, I couldn't back down now. The last girl to do so ended up being engulfed in rumors, and I couldn't suffer the same fate.

I knocked three times and waited.

A few seconds later, the door opened. Jesse grinned wolfishly.

"Come in," he said.

I came in, and shut the door. "No sex," I reminded him.

His smile didn't waver this time. "No sex doesn't mean no fun," he replied.

Lissa's words echoed in my head. _Rose, what have you just gotten yourself into?_

I didn't know. All I had to go on was the sinking feeling in my gut that told me that something was going to happen, and that it wouldn't be good.

* * *

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	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, this is the last time I am saying this: GO BACK AND LOOK AT CHAPTERS 2 & 3. Seriously. If you've been following this story since the beginning, there's a 50/50 chance that you haven't read those two yet, since I did some reformatting and fanfiction did something wonky with the emails, and...yeah.**

**Read the AN at the bottom!  
**

* * *

Jesse grinned at me as I leaned against the door. I didn't say anything. If he wanted to fool around tonight, he'd be the one to initiate it. Jesse was a lot of things, but patient he was not. He was also not trustworthy, tended to not hold back, and was, above all else, your typical hormonal teenage boy.

I tried not to think about that.

"I wasn't sure that you'd come," he drawled, the predatory grin never faltering.

I knew that he probably _had_ known that I'd show, but in all honestly, his words held some truth to them. I might've been one of the most appealing girls in school, with my desert-princess looks (brownish-blackish hair, dark eyes, and the ideal tan) and voluptuous body, and I might've flirted a lot, but I hadn't ever really gone out with a guy. Part of it was due to my brash personality, and part of it was due to the fact that I didn't want to sleep around, but it was mostly because I was, contrary to my reputation for flirting, unwilling to date anyone less than my Prince Charming.

Too bad that currently, the guy I was most attracted to was my teacher. With guys throwing themselves at me every day, it would figure that I ended up eyeing someone totally off-limits and probably not even eyeing me back.

"I doubt it," I replied dryly. No one turned down Jesse. Frankly, you talked to most guys for a purpose, but the only purpose in talking to Jesse was to try to get in bed with him later.

He stepped closer, leg touching mine. "Come sit down."

It was an obvious ploy to move things along, since the two chairs in the room were both covered in who knows what. The only space left was the bed, and as soon as my butt touched it, he sat down so close that he was practically on top of me.

I feigned ignorance and innocence, although really, I just wanted to diffuse the tension. "So, are we going to start studying?"

His eyes darkened as his testosterone took over. "Damn straight," he murmured, and suddenly we were making out.

If I'd had any doubts about my current feelings for him, they vanished now. Kissing Jesse was like kissing a wall that drooled too much. There was no spark.

But I was here to get my mind off of—well, everything, so I kept kissing him. His lips traveled down my neck, but I drew away slightly. I didn't want hickeys. I didn't want any reminders of what I was doing. I only wanted to lose myself for one night.

He took my shirt off, and continued to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing myself to him, trying to lose myself in his kiss like I'd once thought I would. But I didn't.

"No sex," I murmured in between kisses. He frowned, eyes clouded over with obvious lust.

"Then what are we supposed to do?" He didn't stop kissing me, but luckily, he didn't try to take any more clothes off.

"I can think of some ideas."

His eyes lit up. "Yeah? Like wha—"

It was then that the door flew open.

* * *

I was prepared to see his roommate, Ralf; some other kid; or even a matron. Hell, I even could've fended off Kirova. Unfortunately, the very person I'd been trying to escape was the person who'd just flown into the room like he knew this was happening.

Dimitri.

And he was not happy.

I'd seen him annoyed before, but it was nothing compared to what was on his face. To Jesse, it probably looked like pure anger and disapproval. Me? i could read between the lines. He was disappointed.

And for whatever reason, it made me feel sad. Embarrassed. Small.

He strode up to Jesse and lifted him up by the collar of his shirt. "You," he spat. "What is your name?"

Jesse gulped. "J-Jesse Zeklos."

"Mr. Zeklos, are you aware of the rules regarding male and female interaction on campus?"

"Y-yes."

"Then I suggest that you go where you're allowed," he growled. I was reminded of when Mason called Dimitri a god. Clearly, it didn't just apply to volleyball.

Or maybe it did, but I was seeing another side to it now.

Jesse looked around nervously and stammered, "T-this is my dorm."

Dimitri abruptly released him. "Fine. Miss Hathaway, you're coming with me."

* * *

Once we were outside, he whirled and faced me.

"What was that, Rose? Are you _trying_ to give Kirova a reason to get rid of your scholarship?"

Now that we were out of vicinity of Jesse, I could see the anger slowly fading, disappointment replacing it. I felt even worse than I did inside, when the anger was most prevalent and disappointment was hiding in the background.

He didn't give me a chance to respond, choosing to barrel on instead. "You could very well be kicked off the team for pulling a stunt like that! And moreover, boys like to brag. Especially with someone like you, who's never done anything concrete with a guy, but still is borderline when it comes to a reputation. I've heard stories about you."

I tried not to show how hurt I was by the last sentence, but it come out anyway. "Is that your way of calling me a slut?"

His jaw tightened. He didn't answer, but I knew he hadn't. Still, if he couldn't say it, then the sentiment was pointless. The backs of my eyes burned, and my throat closed up, but I refused to show it.

"So you are." I dropped my shirt, placing my hands on my hips, and suddenly, his gaze shifted from disappointment to something else.

It occurred to me then that I was still only in a bra—a lacy black bra—since my shirt was on the ground right now. And while Dimitri might be the most disciplined person ever, the sight of me in a bra was pretty tempting to almost anyone that had a dick.

I covered up my embarrassment with attitude. "See something you like?"

Just like that, the game face went up.

"Put your shirt on," he ordered, and I did. When I was finished, the look on his face was softer. The disappointment was still there, but it wasn't as harsh as it was before.

He bent down so that I could look him in the eye without killing my neck muscles. "Look," he said, tone gentler. "I'm not mad, and I won't tell Headmistress Kirova about this. But you have to start taking responsibility for your actions now. You're almost into your last year of high school, and after that is the real world. The season is only a few weeks away, and you've got to be able to focus on that, or this whole thing will have been for nothing."

My eyes filled with tears. "But I'm still—I'm still a teenager. I'm still a girl, not a woman. Don't I get to have fun before I get to old?" My voice trembled.

He cupped my cheek with one hand, forcing me to look him in the eye. "I'm not saying you can't have fun, Rose. But you can't do things like _this_ anymore. Not when everything is at stake."

I nodded, ashamed of myself.

"You've been saying you want to really set all week. Do you still want to?"

I nodded again.

"Then we can start working on those, but I've got to be able to trust you. Your senior season is your last chance to prove to universities that they need you, and with two years off the radar, it's especially important for you. If I can't trust you to be responsible, then I can't trust you to play. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Can I trust you?"

"Yes."

He stood up, grabbing me arm, and led me out the door. Right before we walked out, he stopped one last time.

"We'll start tomorrow. Don't be late."

* * *

**Okay, I have a problem: I seem to be getting a lot of views, but very few reviews. That tells me that either my story sucks, or...I don't even know. I don't want to demand reviews, since that's basically an invitation for at least one angry reviewer, but if no one's interested in this story, I'll just delete it. School is starting soon, and I'm not going to waste my time writing a story that no one's reading.**

**And for those of you who _have_ reviewed, thank you. It means a lot.  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, telling me to not delete this story! You've inspired me to write a longer chapter than normal, and I won't delete this as long as I know someone out there wants me to continue.  
**

* * *

The next morning, I woke up at the sound of my alarm and didn't even contemplate destroying it. If Lissa had been awake, she would have been proud of me. Or had a heart attack from the shock. Probably both.

Speaking of Lissa, I hadn't had a lot of time with her lately. Yeah, I roomed with her, but pre-training, I'd had down time after classes, too. It was weird. We were so close, but without time together, I had no idea what was going on on Lissa's side of the spectrum. I would have to have a girl talk with her soon.

Actually, I hadn't talked to a lot of my friends in a while. The last time I'd really spoken to Mason had been when he'd asked me about the study group and called Dimitri a god. Never mind Mia, Eddie, Adrian, and Jill. The last time I'd seen Jill was last week in the halls, since she was only a junior. Eddie? I had class with him, but that hardly counted. Adrian didn't have any classes with me. And Mia I'd seen last night at dinner as well, but I only really saw her at mealtimes anymore. It was kind of a shame, since Mia was one of those people you either loved or hated.

Or, in my case, first one and then the other.

Mia had transferred to St. Vlad's about two years ago, and at first, we'd had close to nothing to do with her. It wasn't like we didn't like her. We just didn't really care either way. That had changed once Mia had started dating Aaron Drozdov, Lissa's ex, who still pined after Lissa. It was an eruption waiting to happen.

And it did. Mia began hating Lissa, and then when I'd reacted, I was added to her hit list, and she to mine. She pranked us and tried to spread vicious rumors about us, and we'd (or, really, I'd) retaliated by doing much the same thing. It was probably the most entertainment that the rest of St. Vlad's had had in months. We all assumed it stemmed from jealousy.

And then, one day, Mia had lost control and began attacking her family, who had been killed in a car crash. She had especially insulted Andre, Lissa's brother, whom Lissa had looked up to and loved dearly. Lissa had also, in a rare show of control loss, exploded, demanding to know "What the hell your problem is, bitch!"

Mia responded by shattering Lissa's perfect view of her brother. As it turned out, Andre had dated and dumped Mia in a week; she'd later found out that going out with her was part of a bet to see who could hook her first. She'd really liked Andre, too.

And just like that, we were friends. It's hard to hate someone after finding out something like that.

* * *

I got down to the gym in ample time. Dimitri was, as usual, reading and listening to his crap music. He showed no sign of having been affected by last night's events. I was glad.

"Go run," he told me, like he did every morning. By now, I'd stopped complaining. Instead, i quickly stretched out and made my way to the track. To my surprise, he followed me and began jogging with me.

"What are you doing?" I asked. It came out harsher than I'd intended.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Running with you."

"Yeah, but why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I have to stay in shape, too, you know."

Well, I couldn't argue with that.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence after that. I had been afraid that he would yell at me more today, but it seemed as though he wouldn't. Or, if he was planning on it, he'd do it later.

A few laps in, Mason ran by with Eddie and Adrian; all three were on cross country. He waved, smiling. Eddie threw an impish grin my way, and Adrian smirked and nodded in my direction.

Adrian and I were friends, but our relationship was complicated now. We had dated for some time, but I'd broken it off after I realized that there was no spark, and that we weren't really compatible. I'd figured that he'd move in quickly, and he usually did with girls.

Except he hadn't. He'd genuinely liked me, and I'd broken his heart. he probably knew it wouldn't last forever, but it hurt him all the same. He wouldn't talk to me for months. Eventually, he'd gotten over it, and we'd become friends again, but it wasn't as easy to be around each other as before.

He needed someone to sweep him off his feet. He needed someone that was compatible with him. He needed someone with whom it could work.

He needed someone who could love him for real, and i couldn't give him that. Still, we were good friends with a slightly awkward tinge, which was better than nothing.

I waved back at the three of them, slowing down slightly as I did so. Dimitri frowned.

"Rose, focus," he said, sounding annoyed. I immediately sped up again, not daring to risk any more of his disapproval.

He wasn't finished. "If I can't trust you to run without getting distracted, I don't think I can trust you to focus during training. "

"Sorry," I muttered.

* * *

When we got to the gym, I expected him to grab a ball cart and start me setting. But instead, he told me to go set against the wall again. Then, footwork.

"I thought you said we'd start actually playing today, Comrade," I complained.

"We are," he said. I glanced at the clock. Was he kidding?

"It's too late unless you want to skip conditioning," I pointed out.

He smirked. "I said today. I never said if it would be before or after classes."

"I'm assuming it's after, then?" I said, trying not to groan. He nodded.

"But we won't run or dive," he tacked on.

I was good with that.

* * *

During English, Jesse came up to me.

"Hey, Rose, are we in trouble?" he asked, looking a little nervous.

I raised both eyebrows. "I was caught in your dorm last night, shirtless and making out. What do you think?"

Actually, we weren't, but I knew that Dimitri was right: boys liked to brag, and Jesse was no exception. If I could keep Jesse from bragging...

He looked even more nervous. "Um, so...what's the punishment?"

I thought for a moment. Jesse looked truly scared, and from experience, he wouldn't keep his mouth shut if I simply asked him to. He wasn't easily persuaded unless he got some kind of benefit from the person. But judging from right now, he _was_ easily intimidated, at least by Dimitri.

"Nervous?" I smirked.

He gulped. "I'm serious, Rose."

I smiled. "I can get you off the hook, but I need your cooperation."

"What? How?"

"Belikov's in charge of my punishment as he sees fit, since he hasn't gone to Kirova yet and he's my mentor. Since he hasn't said anything yet, you're safe for now. He's still thinking about whether he wants to handle you himself or if he wants to go to her. I can convince him to keep his mouth shut and not do anything to you, on one condition," I lied smoothly.

"Okay," he said.

"_No one_ hears about what happened last night. And I mean _no one_. Not your next 'girlfriend', not Ralf, not even your diary. And believe me, I will find out if you say a word, since gossip spreads like wildfire around here. And if you say something...I might just go to Kirova herself and 'accidentally' let it slip that you've been using your bed for multiple purposes for the past year, and that you tried to force me into the same thing."

His eyes widened. "But I didn't!"

I grinned. "For all Di—Belikov knows, you did. And he likes me better than you. Who's she gonna believe, you or me with Belikov backing me?"

I could seriously be an actress.

Jesse gulped again, and nodded. "Fine."

* * *

I actually had the time to eat lunch with my friends today, since the teachers had all coordinated quizzes and I hadn't gotten any homework yet. When I did have homework, I had been forced to stay in the library to complete it so that I wouldn't have to stay up all night.

When I got there, though, I wasn't sure that it would be a good meal. Lissa was staring at me expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Mason was carefully avoiding eye contact with me, something that he hadn't been doing this morning. Eddie and Mia were, curiously, silent. Adrian was trying not to smirk. And a blonde girl with a gold tattoo of a lily on her cheek was watching me with curiosity.

I took a deep breath and sat down.

"So," said Lissa. "How was it?"

I swallowed, unsure of what to say. After all, I didn't want to start with saying that we'd been caught, but then again, I hadn't really enjoyed it enough to be completely unhappy that it'd been stopped.

"He drools too much," I shuddered.

Mia snorted. "You can say that again!"

Although it was sort of disgusting, I was glad that Mia agreed with me. In return for a rumor when she and Lissa were still embroiled in World War III, she had almost slept with Jesse in return for his agreeing to say that he'd slept with Lissa. It hadn't ever really taken effect, but Mia had regretted it ever since. It was nice to know she was viewing her almost-deflowering with lightheartedness, rather than beating herself up after all this time.

Eddie smirked. He and Mia had once dated, but it hadn't worked out. They were more suited to friendship than love. The breakup had come as almost a relief to both of them. Still, they were partners in crime, even now.

"I would say I agree with you two, but I have standards," he drawled.

Adrian snickered. "I would say I agree with you, but I'm straight," he said, directing a look at Eddie, who flushed after realizing his mistake.

Lissa cut in. "Seriously. What happened?"

"We didn't do much," I started, but before I could continue, the blonde girl interrupted me.

"Wait, what are we talking about here?" she looked confused.

"Oh! Rose, this is Sydney; Sydney, this is Rose," said Adrian.

Mia smirked. "You've seen Jesse Zeklos, right?" she asked. Sydney nodded. Mia's smirk become even more pronounced. "We're waiting for her to entertain us about how last night with Jesse went."

"Wait, you like Jesse?" Sydney asked, looking slightly repulsed.

I sat up. "No! God, no! He's...it's complicated. But I definitely do _not_ like him. At all. Ew. My God."

Lissa raised an eyebrow. "So you _accidentally_ agreed to hook up with him?"

"I did not agree to hook up with him! I said no sex, right? And I was tired, so I wasn't thinking straight. Plus, I got to blackmail him after we were busted, so it was all okay in the end...oh, wait, I wasn't supposed to say that."

"You were caught? And you blackmailed him? Wait, start over," said Eddie.

I took a deep breath. "We were only kissing—which, by the way, I would never like to do again—and then Belikov busted in on us. So he yelled at Jesse, who looked like he would crap his pants, and then took me out in the hallway and lectured me on responsibility."

"Yeah, but where did blackmail come from?" said Sydney.

"Wellll..." I drew out, "you know how Jesse likes to brag? I figured that once he got over his fear of getting in major trouble, he's start telling people that he hooked up with me. So I told him that Belikov was debating whether or not to handle his punishment himself or go to Kirova, but that I could get him to let us off, on the condition that no one ever would hear about it."

"Are you sure that that's enough to stop him?" asked Mia dubiously.

I grinned. "I also said that if he decided to start talking, I would 'accidentally' let it slip that he tried to force me into hooking up with him, and that I'd get Belikov to stand by me."

Even Lissa laughed. "I think his brains are located below his belt, since it would take an idiot to actually buy that."

Sydney pursed her lips. "While I usually think that blackmail is wrong," she said, "what you did was pretty funny."

I waited for Adrian to say something about his "little setter" and crime, but he never did. Instead, when I looked at him with both eyebrows raised, he was looking at Sydney with something in his eyes that I hadn't seen since...

Since the moment before I broke his heart.

A familiar wave of guilt crashed over me, but I ignored it. He was clearly attracted to Sydney, and I knew if wouldn't have worked anyway. If I could feel more strongly about Dimitri, who was illegal, than Adrian, who wasn't, then it was bound to happen sometime. And besides, it wasn't like I was unhappy about his moving on—on the contrary, I was relieved. I just felt bad about how it had ended, and how we had never really had the same easygoing relationship ever since.

Besides, it wasn't Adrian who made me feel like I was short of breath whenever he was around. It wasn't Adrian who had the ability to make me want to cry when he was disappointed in me.

"You," said Eddie, laughing, effectively snapping me out of my boy-related musings, "are a genius, Rose."

I laughed and nodded. "It took you that long to figure out, Castile?"

Adrian finally turned to look at me. I smiled lightly at him, then looked at Sydney, and back to him, winking. He blushed slightly.

Yes, it looked like I was.

* * *

When I got to the gym that afternoon Dimitri wasn't reading, nor was he playing his country/eighties stuff. Instead, he was sitting on the chair, apparently lost in thought. Well, at least he didn't seem to notice me coming into the gym.

When I got closer, though, I realized that he didn't look thoughtful. He looked sad. Really, really sad.

"Dimitri," I said, and he snapped out of it.

"Rose," he replied.

"Are you okay? You looked sad," I said.

He shook his head. "I'm fine. I just miss my family, that's all."

Don't get me wrong, I'm sure he _did_ miss his family. But I doubted he was telling the truth this time.

I gave him a look. "I'm sure you do, but that's not what you were thinking about."

He looked surprised at my refusal to accept his explanation. Clearly, he'd been expecting me to believe whatever he said.

"Of course it was," he sputtered unconvincingly.

"Yeah, and I'm a unicorn," I answered.

He sighed. "Fine. I was thinking about my best friend."

"Wouldn't that make you happy?" I asked, confused.

He paused. "He died in the same car crash that forced me to stop playing."

Oh.

When I didn't respond, he continued. "We had gone out to a party to celebrate graduation. He was the designated driver. He even volunteered for it. I saw him have one drink, but he wasn't a lightweight, so I didn't think it would be too much for him to drive. And it wasn't, until we had to drive through a small road through the woods. A deer darted out in front of the car, and he swerved straight into a tree. He was killed on impact. When the police tested his blood alcohol levels, it turned out that someone had poured grain alcohol into the punch he'd drunk. He wasn't drunk enough for us to notice, but he was definitely not sober enough to be able to think clearly on the road. And while the deer would have been a problem anyway, it would have been safer if he'd been sober."

I still didn't say anything.

Dimitri finally looked up, pain evident in his eyes. "If I had stopped him from drinking—"

I cut him off. "No."

"What?"

"Unless you knew that someone had decided to spike the punch with extra alcohol, there wasn't much you could have done. Don't blame yourself for this."

"But I could have stopped him from drinking."

"Would he have listened?"

Pause.

He sighed, eyes haunted. "Maybe not, but I should have said something."

"We all make mistakes, Dimitri."

He didn't say anything for a moment, looking down again. When he finally met my eyes a minute later, they has a gentleness to them that I hadn't seem until now.

"Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For not saying you're sorry. For making me talk about it."

I raised both eyebrows at the last comment. "You're saying that you haven't talked about it with anyone other than me?"

He shrugged. "No one realized that I was lying when I said I was fine." His eyes met mine, and something warm coursed through me.

"What was his name?" I suddenly asked, trying to change the subject before something happened.

He paused, seeming unsure of whether or not he should tell me.

"Comrade. Spill."

He sighed. "Ivan. Ivan Zeklos."

Recognition flared within me. "Jesse's a Zeklos," I said stupidly.

He nodded. "I know."

"Does he remind you of Ivan?"

Dimitri didn't respond to that, and I didn't push him. But I was sure that I was right: Jesse reminded him of Ivan. I was sure of it.

"That's why you didn't report what happened last night. Because Jesse and Ivan are similar enough that you'd feel guilty." I didn't bother phrasing it as a question.

Again, he didn't respond for a minute. When he spoke again, it was for an entirely different matter.

"Go stretch, do your wall sets, and do your footwork, Rose."

* * *

When I'd finally finished the boring stuff, he grabbed a ball cart.

"I want to see you actually set to a target, so let me get the hoop," he said, before running off again. When he came back, he was dragging a pole that had a metal hoop on the end. He put it a third of the length down the net and adjusted the height before directing me to stand in zone seven, the setter's spot. I did. He dragged another target—a larger hoop with a net at the end—on the left side of the court, almost out of bounds.

"I'm going to toss balls to you, and I want you to set them through the first hoop if they're within a range that you can get it through both. If you can't, then aim for the one with the net. The tosses won't be perfect, so you'll have to adjust."

It sounded easy enough.

Except two hours later, I realized it wasn't. He'd had me set outside, middle, and right side through the hoops, and it was a lot harder than I'd assumed. While the hoops seemed big enough, it was actually really hard to get the ball through even one of them.

Actually, with his tosses, it was a miracle to even touch the ball sometimes.

It didn't help that right after we were done with the hoops, he made me set him. Pressure much? He was versatile, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it), so I had to set all three positions with him hitting. Not that the sets were good enough for him to truly smash. And then, of course, there was the conditioning.

When we finally stopped, I gulped down a full water bottle. "Couldn't you have eased me into it?" I asked, panting.

"No time," he said.

"We have six more weeks!"

"And most other players have had two years," he replied quietly. "I won't go easy on you. It won't make you better if I do."

"I'm just rusty." Even as I said it, I knew he was right. While I was letting my skills waste away, other players were honing them. It would be hard to me to build it back up.

"I'll have to extend practices. After today, it's clear that we still need to run and dive."

I groaned. "Do we have to?"

"You have great hands. Unfortunately, your feet aren't as great yet."

Sighing, I acquiesced, seeing as I was fighting a losing battle. "What's the time change, Comrade?"

"Come at 4:30 each morning instead of 5:00 and leave at 7:00 instead of 6:00 after classes. You'll miss dinner, most likely, but so will I. Luckily, the staff mess hall stays open even after they shoo everyone out, so you'll have to eat there with me. I can teach you verbally during mealtimes."

Eating with him sounded good, at least.

"Okay. But what time should I get down for dinner, then?"

"7:45 should be good."

I nodded. I didn't relish the idea of waking up even earlier than I already did, but I _was_ improving. And I got to spend more time with him—

_Shut up, Rose. He's your TEACHER, for God's sake_.

"Dimitri," I said suddenly. He glanced up, an eyebrow raised.

"About Ivan...if you want to talk, I'll be here." I wasn't sure why I said what I did. But as I spoke, I realized the truth of my words, although I was well aware that I was treading on dangerous waters. You weren't supposed to get too close with teachers. Especially not the ones you had abnormally large crushes on.

But even now, I remembered all too clearly the tingles I felt whenever he was near me. I didn't remember ever feeling like that with other boys that I had liked. And I could distinctly remember how I understood him all too well, already.

All this, I realized, was just the tip of the iceberg. If this much could happen in two weeks, then the next few weeks would only add complications.

I was beginning to feel like Batman. _There's a storm coming, Mr. Wayne_.

But as I went to sleep that night, the only thing I could picture was a pair of deep brown eyes, lulling me into oblivion.

* * *

**That quote is from _The Dark Knight Rises_, in case you're wondering. And yes, it IS amazing and you should go see it already if you haven't! What are you waiting for? Go!  
**

**Next chapter: enter...Christian! To those of you wondering, yes, I AM going to include her friends' separate storylines. However, some things will be different from the books, as you can tell from this chapter. I don't think I can handle certain plotlines, nor do I really want to stick too closely with the book, since I'd like to be somewhat original. Some main things will be the same, but I couldn't see this story covering the Adrian plotline, the Mia plotline, and several others effectively. So if something is different that you really wanted to see the same, sorry! But I really can't handle that much at this moment.**

**Also, school starts next week. I'll have volleyball every day after school, and when I don't, it'll be because I have a game. I'm also taking all honors classes as a freshman. So if updates become sporadic, sorry. I'll do my best, but I have a lot more time during summers than during the school year, especially during volleyball season.  
**

**R&R!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**School starts on Thursday, so this might be the last update in a while, until I get situated and have time to sit down and type up a chapter. Just a heads-up.**

* * *

When I got to the cafeteria, most of the people were already gone. I had taken longer to shower and get down to dinner, since I was wrapped up in my thoughts about Dimitri.

Was I really in love with him?

No, I decided. I didn't know him well enough yet, and besides, what were the chances of that? I was reckless sometimes, but falling in love with my teacher was out of character, even for me. But I couldn't deny that I was attracted to him. A lot.

I couldn't believe I had a crush on my teacher.

And the fact of the matter was, unless I got over it soon, I was in deep shit. I was going to spend even more time with him than I already was, not to mention _eating_ with him. If I hadn't felt the way I felt about him, I would be cracking jokes about having a daily dinner date.

As it was, all thoughts of The Dimitri Situation vanished once I walked into the cafeteria and caught sight of Lissa, who was still there. It wasn't that she had dyed her hair or gotten a tongue piercing or something. In fact, she looked relatively unchanged, other than the fact that she didn't even look up when I burst through the doors, unlike everyone else. But that was okay.

She was wrapped up in company. And when I say company, I mean Christian Ozera: loner extraordinaire.

Christian was something of an enigma to the school. He hung out by himself and seemed to like wearing black, although he couldn't really be classified as goth. He had no friends, as far as I could tell, but it was debatable as to whether that was his own fault or everyone else's. Why it could be considered his own fault was that he never had really made an effort to talk to anyone. Why it could be everyone else's was that they held his parents' actions against him and never really gave him a chance.

His parents had once been prominent businesspeople. They had owned a major technology company, been prominent socialites, donated to charities...you get the idea. It seemed perfect. Business was booming, and nothing was going wrong for them.

Well, not until they hired the mafia to murder a rising business competitor. As of right now, they were still in prison. Christian lived with his aunt, but she was one of the few relatives that could even stand to look him in the eye after his parents' crimes.

Still, Christian had been antisocial enough that people didn't really want to make the effort to prove that he was not going to follow in his parents' footsteps. While he was certainly pitiable, he was not someone most empathized and sympathized with.

Although, thinking back, his accidentally setting a table on fire in Chemistry in eighth grade probably hadn't helped, especially since he'd been too busy laughing to get the fire extinguisher.

I was pretty neutral when it came to him. However, when it concerned my best friend, I was bound to be wary. Lissa, after all, was sensitive. She was still grieving about being the last person alive in her family, and although she hid it well, I knew she couldn't help but feel guilty that of all people, she had been the only one with the safe seat when their car had wrapped itself around a tree.

I mentally shrugged and made my way over to them, plopping a tray with pizza, donuts, and water on the table.

"Hey, Lissa." I nodded at Christian. "Christian."

"Rose!" exclaimed Lissa. Christian watched me with an unreadable gaze, and for the first time, I realized how handsome he actually was, with black hair and bright blue eyes. If he talked a bit more, girls would definitely go for him. He was definitely not my type (6'7 guys with longish brown hair and brown eyes with a Russian accent were...), but he might have been Lissa's.

I laughed lightly at her excitement and winced. "Ow."

"Are you okay?" she said, overly concerned. I stifled the urge to giggle again. Lissa was like a mother hen sometimes.

"Yeah, I'm just a little sore. Belikov seems to think that every time I try to get him to start letting me practice is a warrant to make me do twenty crunches. Thank God he let me start today, although that probably has to do more with last night than me arguing."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "What happened last night?"

I hadn't realized he was actually talking, considering that I'd never heard his voice before.

"Nothing," Lissa and I said at the same time. "Long story," I added.

"I've got time," he replied dryly.

I glanced at Lissa, but she shrugged, as it to say _Go figure it out yourself_.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" I asked.

He snorted. "Are you _stupid_? Who, exactly, would I tell?"

He had a point there. Still, the fact that he called me stupid didn't really sit well with me. It didn't help that he seemed to actually mean it. And the fact that he was actually talking to me right now instead of brooding in a corner made me a little suspicious.

I glared at him. "Shut it, Pyro."

"'Pyro'?" he asked, an eyebrow raised. Damn...was I really the only one who couldn't do that?

"Are you stupid?" I said, mimicking him. "Eighth grade Chem? Fire? Table?"

He thought for a second, racking his memory, before recognition light up in his eyes and he began to laugh. "Oh, yeah, that was hilarious!"

I gave him an _Are you crazy?_ look. "To you."

"I'm sure most of the people in class were thankful for the distraction. And plus, it gave them even more reasons to leave me alone. It's a win-win situation...you do know what that is, right? It's okay if you don't, since you don't seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer."

Time for the death glare. Unfortunately, he was one of the few people who didn't cower. "I know what a win-win situation is, Sparky."

"Stop calling me that!"

I didn't grace that with a response.

"Seriously, I won't tell. Now spill," he said.

"Seriously, don't tell. I blackmailed Jesse to keep his mouth shut for a reason, you know."

Then I realized what I said. It was too late, though; Christian was smirking like the Cheshire Cat. "You blackmailed Jesse Zeklos? I've gotta hear this."

I sighed, and began talking.

* * *

Later that night, after lights out, I couldn't sleep. I could hear rustling coming from Lissa's bed, too.

"Liss?" I asked, my voice sounding loud in the darkness.

"Yeah?" she replied.

"I can't sleep."

She laughed. "You should, considering that you have to wake up at an insanely early time tomorrow."

I didn't respond for a moment, trying to keep the desire to see Dimitri again at bay. I briefly contemplated telling her, but decided against it. Nothing good would come out of a conversation like that, and besides, nothing would happen between us, anyway.

But still, the feeling remained.

I quickly turned my thoughts to another subject that had been plaguing my mind as well. "So, you and Christian."

I could practically see her blush. "What about it?"

"What's the story there?"

I heard a rustle, and I felt, rather than saw, her prop herself up on her side. "He's actually really nice."

"That's not really an answer."

Pause.

She sighed. "Everyone else had already left, and I didn't feel like sitting with Camille and her crew."

"And there were no other seats?" She was being uncharacteristically obstinate about withholding information.

She sighed again, this time in resignation. "Fine. I saw him sitting all alone, and I...I don't know. I felt bad for him. I mean, it's not his fault that his parents did what they did, but he's punished for it, too."

"And he totally hates being left alone," I commented sarcastically.

Silence.

"He's cute," I teased. Again, I could almost sense Lissa's blush.

"I guess," she said, trying to make her voice even.

I giggled. "Do you...do you like him?"

"He's nice."

I rolled my eyes, though she couldn't see it. "You know what I mean. Do you _like_ like him?"

Even Lissa giggled at that. "No. Today was the first time I've ever spoken to him."

I figured that she would cut off the conversation there, but she didn't.

"But I could. He's different from the other guys here. He's...he's..."

"Snarky, sarcastic, annoying?"

"Yes. But can't you see it?"

What? "See what? His face?" I wasn't trying to be obnoxious, but Lissa was trying my patience.

Her voice got softer. "He's hurting. The way he acts is how he protects himself. If you look, you can see it in his eyes. He's still hurting over the fact that his parents betrayed him. That the only person who was willing to take him in was his aunt. That no one bothered to try more than once to be friends with him."

"He pushes people away, Liss," I said, my voice gentle. No one could dispute that point, but I wasn't closing my mind to outside opinions.

"I know. But I think he's sad that they don't push back."

I didn't know what to say to that.

After a beat of silence, I said, "You already can tell within the first real meeting?"

I heard another rustle and realized she was probably shrugging. "It's not so hard."

Actually, it was, since I had spent the whole meal studying him. I didn't mention that to her, though.

Abruptly, she changed the subject. "So, how's _your_ love life? Any relationships waiting to hatch?" _Never mind last night_, I thought.

_Yes_, I wanted to say_. I _do_ have a relationship waiting to happen_.

But I didn't have a relationship waiting to happen, and I couldn't tell her the truth about whom I secretly wanted it to be with. Surprisingly, it hurt, having to hide it from her. Over the years, we had shared everything with each other. It didn't feel right to have secrets.

Still, I had my priorities, and I knew what could happen if I acknowledged my feelings out loud.

"No," I said, my voice wistful to my own ears. I turned over.

"Goodnight, Lissa."

* * *

**I know, this was a really short chapter. Sorry. I have to finish my summer reading novel (I'm reading _Catch-22_) and it's been slow going. Unfortunately, I have to finish it in two days...including today. I know, I should have finished the book first, but I'm not sure when that'll happen, since it's more complex than I had anticipated. I'm about 2/3 of the way through, at least.**

**So, Christian is now existent! Obviously, the Christian/Lissa thing got off on a totally different start, which also changes how Rose reacts to him. And since Rose and Christian are so alike, they're already not getting along. Should I have her break them up like she did in the book, or change the Lissa/Christian plotline with Rose deciding not to interfere? Review and tell me what to do!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**I know, my updates are already becoming more and more sporadic. But with the way things are looking, I might only have time on weekends to update, so we'll see. Also, this chapter is a lot more RxD than the last one, so for those of you waiting for them to get together, it's coming sometime in the near future. They just need some more...nudging. Also in this chapter: Stan!  
**

**R&R!  
**

* * *

When my alarm woke me up the next morning, I groaned and slapped the top until I managed to silence it. After all these weeks, my body was still rejecting the notion of waking up early. I tried to force my eyes open, but couldn't.

Dimitri was going to kill me if I was late.

I lay there for a few seconds, and then tried to sit up and get out. Somehow, I managed to get tangled with my sheets and roll—literally—out of bed. I tried not to groan again when I hit the floor.

I blinked and looked at the clock. _Shit_. I needed to hurry.

I threw on some clothes and my shoes and tied up my hair in a messy ponytail. I brushed my teeth and then headed off. As I was walking out the door of our room, I glanced at Lissa to make sure I hadn't woken her up. She was curled up, definitely asleep, with a faint smile on her face.

At least one of us was happy right now.

But then again, I was going off to see Dimitri, so I wasn't _totally_ unhappy with the unholy hour.

* * *

I managed to walk into the gym right on time. As I went through the double doors, Dimitri looked up, surprised. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"What?" I asked.

"You're on time," he said, as though he didn't quite believe it.

"So?"

"You're never on time."

"Your point is?"

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you on time?"

"Would you prefer that I'm late?" I retorted.

He sighed and opened his mouth to speak. I knew what he was going to say, and I opened my mouth, too.

"Go run, Rose," we both said at the same time.

He glared at me and closed his eyes in exasperation. I laughed.

"Okay, I'll run. Don't get your panties in a twist, Comrade."

He muttered something under his breath, and ushered me out the door to the track. I laughed the whole way down.

* * *

One training session later, I was drenched in sweat. My ponytail was literally dripping, and I felt as thought I'd just jumped into a pool. Don't even get me started on how tired I was, and how sore I was going to be later.

I'm sure I looked very attractive, dripping in sweat.

"I'll see you this afternoon," said Dimitri, dismissing me. I nodded and left.

I showered quickly, ate, and made my way down to my first class: gym. Unfortunately, it was required, and my teacher was none other than Stan Alto, Alberta's assistant who was, in politest terms, a jackass.

I secretly called him Stan-hole.

We had a mutual-hate relationship. I have no idea what his problem with me was, but once he made it clear, I had no problem reciprocating it. He constantly tried to get me in trouble. Half the time, he stretched things or even made up details. In return, I made teaching his class hell. Since no one really liked him, it wasn't hard to convince others to rebel in his class. Nor was it hard to make him frustrated. We were all smart enough to fly just under the radar so that he wouldn't have enough to get us detention, but enough to seriously piss him off. The only person who could ever really get in trouble in Stan's class was me, and I hadn't been in it for two years because of my ankle. The rest of the people were careful to not show that it was me who was urging everyone to fool around in class.

It was sort of like a Mafia operation. We were all careful to be extra good in all other classes, so it was really only Stan who was suffering.

When I got to the gym for class, my spirits lifted, then dropped. The volleyball nets were up, which meant that we were starting volleyball. Ordinarily, I would be ecstatic, but this time I wasn't. I hadn't been training for long, so I had no idea what I would look like now. Not to mention that Stan-hole hated me, so he'd probably find a way to embarrass me.

I tried to look nonchalant, but for the first time, I was really nervous. Stan had a look in his eye when he saw me walk in that I didn't like.

When the bell rang, he immediately began talking in an annoyingly nasal voice. "As you can see, we are going to starting the volleyball unit today."

No one said anything, even though he paused dramatically for effect.

"Do we have any volleyball players in here?"

Of course we did. I was in this class. So was Lissa. So was Mia. So was Camille. But I doubted he was looking for them.

His eyes sought me out, lighting up with a cruel look. "Miss Hathaway. You play volleyball. Come to the front of the class."

I glanced at Lissa and Mia, and even Camille, who was Queen B for bitch of the school. Lissa raised her hand. "Mr. Alto, I play, too."

"I said Miss Hathaway, Miss Dragomir."

Lissa slumped down in her seat, giving me an apologetic look. I shrugged infinitesimally to tell her it was alright, and walked up.

When I reached the front of the class, I noticed two things. One was that everyone in class had the same expectant look on their faces, which told me that no one was going to come to my rescue and that everyone knew that Stan-hole was ready to strike. The second was that Dimitri was standing in the back of the gym, watching my imminent humiliation.

_Oh, God, not now. Not in front of him._

I tried not to show my apprehension as I faced Stan.

He smiled. "So, Miss Hathaway, I want you to be my example setter for today."

Considering that I'd found out yesterday how rusty I was, I was in trouble. I had a feeling that Stan knew I'd be rusty, too.

"I—"

"You _can_ still play, right?"

"I—"

He smirked. "Oh, right, you went and got your ankle broken two years ago. How silly of me to have forgotten. Do you remember how to set?"

"Yes—"

He turned to face the class, cutting me off for the umpteenth time. "Class, remind Miss Hathaway how to set. You use your hands, and you shape them like this—"

I interrupted him, trying not to say something that would convince Kirova to kick me out of school. "I know how to set."

"Then tell me, do you know how to tip effectively? How to read the blockers? How to gauge the height needed for an effective hit? How to judge the right location?"

I did know—vaguely. Two years out of practice had muddled a few of the finer details, simply because it came with experience. And I had never really glanced at the other side pre-tip or pre-set...

He took my silence as a reason to go on. "I guess not. You must use the Hathaway Set-Whatever-Suits-You method. No wonder we didn't win that many games before you hurt yourself."

There was no way I would let him see me cry. For once, his words were actually affecting me.

I glanced quickly at Dimitri, but he remained stoic as ever. The rest of my classmates looked on with sympathy, but no one said anything.

"I don't agree with the renewal of your scholarship," he continued. "It's a waste of space and time and money to give it to you. I only hope that you don't embarrass yourself too much during this unit, not to mention during the season. Go back to your seat."

I couldn't get back fast enough. When class ended, I was the first one out the door.

* * *

When I got to the gym for training that afternoon, Dimitri was reading, per usual. I waited for him to realize I was there, and when he did, I said, "You were there this morning."

He nodded, but gave no other sign that he had even heard me.

"What Stan said..." I sighed. "It wasn't fair. He had no right to say those things to me."

"Was he right?" Dimitri answered. I blanched. Was he actually _agreeing_ with Stan-hole? I tried to mask the hurt.

"Just because I was out for two years and got rusty doesn't mean—"

"Rose. Was he right?"

I sighed. Stan had been kind of right. "Sort of. I don't remember...a lot."

I looked at the ground, not wanting to see the disapproval in his eyes. He turned my face up with his hand, and I tried to ignore the thrill I got—that I always got—when he touched me. I tried to avoid eye contact.

"Look at me, Rose."

Well, that wasn't something I could ignore, so I forced my eyes up to his. Instead of the disapproval I had been expecting, I saw sympathy.

"Mr. Alto was right that you can lose a lot in two years, Rose," he started. I swallowed and tried not to remember the way Stan had sounded as he'd knifed me with his words, so cruelly satisfied. "But you're right that he shouldn't have said it, at least not in front of the class. Some of what he said could be reported and could put his job in danger, if that makes you feel any better. Unfortunately, I can't do much about it, since I'm your mentor. A student would have to speak up."

"That won't happen."

"Then not much will."

I groaned. "He gets away with everything."

Dimitri smirked slightly. "I have full faith that you'll manage to execute your revenge, seeing as you've been doing it ever since you met him."

"What?" I played dumb, but I was secretly wondering how he knew about my Mafia-like operation with Stan.

He tried—and failed—not to smirk. "It's pretty obvious that the only class that ever has unruly students is his gym class that you're in. The other teachers are always talking about how all of the kids suddenly became well-behaved when Mr. Alto was hired, and he's always complaining that classes with you in it are a nightmare because all of the students make trouble, but he can't do anything about it, and how he thinks you're a bad influence on all the other kids, but he can't complain about that, either, since the kids have been like that during the years you were gone."

I tried not to smirk as well. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He gave me a dry look and changed the subject. "Don't worry about what he said. You'll be more than caught up by the time the season starts."

I wasn't sure if he was saying that for my benefit or not, but I nodded anyway.

"Go run, Rose."

* * *

If I'd thought that this morning was bad, then it was nothing compared to how I was when we finished practice an hour later than normal, me being even more exhausted than normal.

He let me go with a stoic, "Go shower, and then meet me back here in half an hour. You can't get into the cafeteria without a teacher with you."

I tore off to shower, and managed to make it back to the gym thirty-five minutes later. Dimitri looked up when I got there.

"You're five minutes late," he remarked dryly. "I thought that after this morning, you were trying to be on time?"

"This morning was an outlier."

"Ah."

We walked the rest of the way to the cafeteria in silence. When we reached it, Dimitri pulled open the door for me, letting me enter first. The lunch lady looked up, and was about to tell me I wasn't allowed to be in there, when Dimitri came in. She quickly shut her mouth.

He grabbed a salad and some meatloaf and water and sat down to eat. I grabbed pizza, donuts, and lemonade and joined him. He frowned at my food choice.

"That's not very healthy," he remarked. I looked at his food.

"That's not very tasty," I replied. "Besides, between my metabolism and the daily workouts, I don't think I'm gaining weight in fat."

He shrugged, wisely choosing not to come between me and my food.

We ate for a minute or two, and then he pulled out a whiteboard, drawing a court and a net in the middle. "Where did you normally tip as a freshman?"

I thought for a minute. "I tried for the middle, but I usually didn't tip unless I had to."

He nodded as if that was the answer he'd been expecting. "What about the height of the tip?"

"Um...I tried not to tip it to the sky? I don't know, as long as it didn't get blocked, I was happy."

He nodded again, and drew a few X's on the board. "Say you're right here and it's a perfect pass, but it's a little high," he said, gesturing to one X. "You can tip it then, because the other side won't be expecting it, and it's a good height for you to decide whether or not you want to jump or stay down. Ideally, you should tip it towards the middle or behind you, where the ten-foot-line meets the sideline." He pointed to two other X's.

"You can also shoot it between the right side and the middle, but keep it in front of the ten-foot-line. Or aim for a back corner. Most teams have trouble getting to those," he continued, drawing a few more X's. "You have a lot of options. Just make sure the tip isn't too high, and you have to be accurate. Also, do it with your left hand, because you have a lot more flexibility with it."

It was kind of a lot to take in, but I managed to absorb it all. Still, Dimitri took a napkin and copied the picture on the board onto it and handed it to me. "Study this."

I tucked it into my pocket and was about to leave when he stopped me.

"Study it tonight, when you've finished your homework. That way, when Mr. Alto gets on your case tomorrow about tipping, you can tell him you know exactly where to tip, and you can even draw it out for him." A faint smirk graced his gorgeous features. "Don't worry, I'll watch tomorrow, too."

* * *

By the time I went to sleep that night, I had the chart firmly ingrained in my mind.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yes, I'm back! So far, school's been good. No seniors have eaten me yet. Also, I've joined the school newspaper (yay!) so hopefully, that'll improve m writing. Also, our volleyball team has yet to lose a match! (And I just used "also" to start a sentence twice in a row. My English teacher would be pretty mad right now...) Great way to start off my high school experience, right?**

**Also, we're officially over 50 reviews, guys! Maybe I'll reward you somehow. I'll think of something.**

**And yes, the Stan confrontation is in this chapter, for those of you who've been wanting a Stan smackdown.  
**

* * *

The next session passed by in a blur. My sets were already improving, slowly. I was also getting stronger and faster. As much as I would never want to admit it, Dimitri's hard-ass practices were doing a lot for me. I'd probably improved more in the three weeks I'd been training with him than I had in the years prior to it. If he could coach me like that, he could easily lead us at least to state. Beating St. Basil's was another matter, but still...if we won, I owed nothing in student loans.

The only real conversation we'd had was at the end of training. I was, as usual, dripping with sweat. I was also, as usual, trying not to swoon whenever Dimitri so much as breathed.

"Did you study the chart?" he asked, in a tone that told me that he wouldn't be too surprised if I replied in the negative.

"Actually...I did," I replied. He gave no sign of his surprise other than a raised eyebrow.

He nodded at the whiteboard that was mounted on the wall. "Draw it for me."

I managed to draw it with little hesitation. When I finished, I looked up to see him smiling proudly at me.

It was the first true smile I'd really seen on him. Sure, I'd seen his smirks and his little grins occasionally, but a smile? I could probably take that and sell it for a million dollars. Not to mention, he looked really, _really_ good.

"Perfect," he proclaimed quietly, his accent highlighting the word, making my heart swell even more.

I smiled back, happy that I'd finally done something he could truly be proud of.

His smile shifted to a smirk then. "Now when Sta—Mr. Alto tries to pick on your 'lack of knowledge and skill', draw this chart."

I snorted. "Did you almost call the Stan-hole _Stan_?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, Roza, I didn't."

"Of course you—what's a Roza?"

He turned slightly pink. "It's your name in Russian."

"Oh," I said, thoughtful. I kind of liked the idea of him having a nickname for me.

"I like it, Comrade."

He rolled his eyes. "Go get ready for class, Rose."

* * *

The moment I walked into the room, the Stan-hole's eyes sought me out the way a searchlight try to find a target. Once they latched onto me, he grinned. I sat down and quickly glanced towards the back. Yep, Dimitri was there. He gave me a look that said, in equal parts, _Remember what I said earlier_ and _This is probably going to be the most amusement I get out of this morning_.

Once class started, Stan immediately began talking. "Good morning, class. I hope you all learned something yesterday. Or at least, I hope you remember the basics of the game."

He turned to me. "Miss Hathaway, while I know you have no knowledge on even where to tip, but I do hope you'll figure out at least something by the time the season's over."

I glared at him. "I know _exactly_ where to tip." Alright, so maybe I was a bit out of character. After humiliation like yesterdays, I would have flown a little more under the radar, but I trusted Dimitri.

He grinned like the Chesire Cat. "Oh, really? Then you can show us _exactly_ where to tip on that whiteboard over there."

I shrugged nonchalantly and made my way over. As I did so, I glanced behind me. Mia was giving me a _What the hell are you doing, Rose?_ look, but Lissa wasn't. Lissa could tell I was up to something, and that she'd find out soon. I turned back to the front and met Dimitri's eyes. He had his game face on, but I could detect a hint of amusement behind his unwavering gaze. For all his discipline was worth, he was still human, and therefore could find humor in the huge embarrassment Stan was about to go through. He probably also had figured out the meaning of "karma", once upon a time.

I confidently drew the court and the X's. When I finished, Stan was beet red and gaping like a fish. Pretending not to notice, I began talking, giving the exact lecture Dimitri had given me the night before on the locations. When I finished, I glanced at Stan's purple face. He looked like he was about to have an aneurysm or something.

In all honestly, I had probably drawn more areas than he had known himself.

"Miss Hathaway," he said through clenched teeth, "I don't appreciate it when you guess."

I snorted. "Guess? I didn't guess! I learned it."

"From who? Yourself?"

Asshole. "No. From Mr. Belikov. Ask him yourself."

A hush fell over the class as I made possibly the most miraculous comeback ever from yesterday's smackdown. Stan looked like a very purple, very ugly fish as he gaped at me, opening and shutting his mouth in an attempt to find something else to say. I took his silence as my chance to deliver the final blow via Dimitri.

"He's right there. Go ask him." Stan slowly walked over to Dimitri.

"Is she lying?" he asked him, though everyone knew I wasn't.

"No. I taught her."

Stan slowly walked back, anger clearly written on his face.

"Go sit down, Miss Hathaway. I don't appreciate the fact that you didn't bother asking me and forced your mentor to teach you when he could have been improving other skills."

Jesus Christ, he never knew when to stop.

"I might have asked you," I said slowly, "if I'd thought you would actually teach me, instead of bullying me. And as for forcing Mr. Belikov to take time out of my lessons to teach me, I neither forced him nor did we lose time. He decided to teach me during dinner, when I wasn't playing anyway."

I caught Mia's eye as Stan turned away, unable to respond to that, and she mouthed _Burn_. As the class awkwardly restarted, I risked a glance at Dimitri to see if I'd gone too far. After all, no matter how much Stan mistreated me, he was still a teacher, and I wasn't sure if I'd crossed a line. Dimitri had his game face on, stoic and unyielding, but I was sure I had detected the faintest trace of a smile on his face.

* * *

The news of The Stan Incident had spread like wildfire, and by the end of the day, I had emerged with both school-wide fame and a new nickname. The nickname? Rosie the Riveter, courtesy of the people in my AP US History class who noticed that we were covering propaganda during World War II today.

The news of my new nickname has spread, too. By lunch, Mason had managed to snag a Rosie the Riveter poster for me to tote around. People were shouting "We can do it!" and flexing their biceps during passing periods. Some people had even put bandanas on.

It was really quite ridiculous.

The only person who seemed unhappy with the new turn of events was Camille Conta. Camille was, as I said before, Queen B for Bitch, and didn't seem to like the loss of followers who had migrated to me instead of her. I didn't really like the followers, either, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wanted to tell her that she could have the sycophants back in a heartbeat, but I doubted it would have made a difference.

Also, I didn't like her enough to bring myself to worry about her.

Most of the teachers had even figured out where the nickname had come from, and evidently, Stan wasn't too popular among the other teachers, either, because most of the non-oblivious teachers had given me nods of approval when somebody dropped the "Rosie the Riveter" bomb.

Even Dimitri had figured it out. When I had reported for lessons, he'd raised an eyebrow and said, "Rosie the Riveter?" I'd groaned and said a muffled, "Don't call me that, Comrade!" in response.

By the end of the week, the initial hubbub had died down a bit, but things had changed. Now that the whole school knew my name, I possessed a strange sort of popularity. I stuck with my friends and acted normal, but Camille had grown slightly chillier, and people still flocked around me sometimes. I didn't like it, but I dealt with it as best I could, by simply acting like I couldn't care less.

One positive thing had come out of It, though: Stan stopped bothering me. Sure, he was even more hostile and couldn't keep from glaring at me whenever he got the chance, but he didn't try anything again.

* * *

Meanwhile, I had been getting closer to Dimitri. The extra time—not to mention the dinners—with him had forced us to get to really know each other, and even I was surprised at how well we already got each other. Of course, the time he had told me that story about the car crash and Ivan had been such a moment, but as we talked more and more, I had realized that that conversation hadn't been an outlier. We really did get each other, probably more than what was appropriate for a mentor and student. Secretly, the fact that he was opening up to me made me giddy. The fact that he bothered even making small talk made me happy. It should have made me wary, but I couldn't help it. The more we talked, the more I liked him. It wasn't a silly crush anymore. The emotional aspect compounded with the physical aspect made it exponentially _more_. Of course, this was all one-sided, as far as I knew.

But then there was that one practice.

It was an afternoon practice session, a few days aftwas er Rosie the Riveter was born, when it happened. I had been target setting, and Dimitri had noticed something wrong about the way I was squaring up, and how it was making my hands rush and form weirdly. He'd first fixed my hand shape, and then turned my shoulders towards the target, and then my hips.

I want to point out two things: one, that the moment he touched me, I felt the same familiar spark, and two, when he put his hands on my hips, I felt like I was on fire.

It was nothing compared to what happened next.

I turned my head to look at him and ask if it was right, when I noticed that his head—and, namely, his face—was now very, _very_ close to mine once I'd turned. I could feel his breath on my lips, and if one of us just moved a little...

He inclined his head, leaning in slightly. I did, too. It was electrifying, being so close, and I could see the desire in his dark eyes. They flicked down to my lips once, and we were moving even closer—

At almost the same time, we snapped out of it and leapt apart. Blushing furiously, I took a moment to compose myself. When I looked up again, he had his game face on, conveying no emotion. I was almost disappointed.

But the look in his eyes...there was no mistaking it. Whether it was because he had gotten caught up in the moment, or if it was something else was beyond me, but he had definitely wanted to kiss me. And I...

I had wanted to kiss him, too, like a foolish schoolgirl.

We pretended that nothing had happened, but it wasn't the same. Once more, he had become slightly guarded, and dinner was awkward as hell, even though we'd managed to make small talk.

That night, Lissa was over the moon. Christian had asked her to go to the school dance with him, and of course, she'd accepted. I wasn't quite sure if that meant that they were going out, or if they were still "just friends" even though they obviously weren't, but what did it matter? She was happy.

As I lay in bed, I couldn't get the almost-kiss out of my head, nor could I stop wondering what would have happened had we closed that small little gap.

* * *

**Yes, I gave Rose multiple nicknames in the same chapter (gasp!), and drama, and a romantic moment! A little action before it all _really_ starts to escalate, no?  
**

**I know, I know, Rose was a little meaner than she was to Stan in the book, but then again, I made Stan a _lot_ meaner. I want a black-and-white character, and since I _am_ planning of The Tasha Situation to be incorporated into the story, I wanted her to be a gray area. So Stan is probably going to have to be your main punching bag for now, and we'll see if we can rip on Tasha or not, depending on what I decide to do with her.  
**

**Also, I know it's been slow going (ish), but I still need to get a few things in order, and plus, Rose needs a somewhat normal high school experience. Don't worry, the action will begin soon with volleyball, social life, and Dimitri!  
**

**So how was it? Good? Bad? There's a little button on the bottom that's calling your name...  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry for the mix-up with the last chapter! Again, I have no idea what happened, since it was acting wonky for me, too. I think it's okay now—it shows the right chapter all the time now, instead of half the time—so if you haven't checked it out, you might want to...**

**Sorry if this chapter seems a bit rushed. I might be busy all next week and weekend, so I have no idea if I'll be able to update.**

* * *

Dimitri didn't say anything about what had happened the next day. Or, really, for the next few days. In fact, he hadn't said much at all to me ever since we'd almost kissed.

I felt a curious mix of both relief and disappointment at his silence as the days wore on.

However, I hadn't had much time to obsess over the his recent muteness, as two other things slowly prioritized themselves: Stan's slow downfall, and Homecoming.

The hubbub about The Stan Incident had mostly died down, but things had changed. Stan wasn't as nasty as he had once been, probably because he knew that if he was, the other students would just talk back. And while people had stopped shouting "Rosie the Riveter!" in the halls, I was still called it sometimes. I'd permanently earned their respect.

The more prominent issue, though, was Homecoming. Both girls and guys were busy obsessing over dates. Christian ans Lissa were going together, and, from what I'd heard from Mason and Eddie, Adrian was trying to get up the nerve to ask Sydney. Eddie was planning on asking Jill. I'd been surprised initially, but the more I thought about it, the more obvious his regard for her was. It was really more about whether or not Jill liked him back.

And Mason? I was only hoping that he wouldn't ask me. Mia shared my sentiments, claiming that she wasn't looking forward to such an awkward situation, but I was pretty sure she had ulterior motives. Such as secretly crushing on him.

Not that she'd admit it.

I was contemplating subtly hinting at Mason to ask her out—which, knowing me, probably wouldn't be subtle at all—but I wasn't sure if interfering was such a good idea. After all, I wasn't sure if Mason liked Mia back, since as far as I knew, he still liked me. Also, Mia wasn't even confirming my suspicions, so my intervening on her behalf was not necessarily something that would be met with gratitude.

In fact, I had just about ruled it out when Mason came up to me with a question during study hall.

From his nervous expression, I already knew it would be about the dance. Asking girls to dances seemed to be one of the only two things that got him nervous.

The other was One Direction, but I couldn't blame him for that. Watching Lissa freak out over them was a pretty scary experience.

Anyhow, I watched Mason walk over to me, trying not to look just as nervous as him, because believe me, I was. Only, it was for a slightly different reason.

He awkwardly stood there for a moment, shifting his weight, before saying, "So, Rose..." and trailing off.

It was, in that moment, hard to believe that this was the boy who, in first grade, had demanded I play tag with him every day and whenever he was it, would chase me, calling, "Hath-a-way, don't run away!"

And yet, here he was.

He cleared his throat. "About the dance..."

I grimaced slightly. "Mason..." I started, my heart sinking.

He looked up, hopeful, even though my tone probably indicated that he was about to be let down. "Yeah?"

"Mason," I tried again. "I'm sorry, but I just don't like you in that way. You're great, but—"

His eyes widened. "No! No, believe me, that ended last year. The feeling is mutual."

"What?" I said stupidly. From the way our conversation had started, you'd have thought he was trying to ask me. I couldn't help the relief that washed over me as my surprise subsided.

"No! It's about...something else." And surprise gave way to confusion.

"Spill, Mase."

He sighed. "I really like this girl..." he started.

"And you're too chicken to ask her to Homecoming," I finished. He tried to glare at me, but couldn't, probably because it isn't really a good idea to glare at the person you're trying to get to help you.

It was my turn to sigh. "And you're assuming that I'll automatically know what to do, because all girls are the same and therefore will all do the same thing," I deadpanned.

He fidgeted. I tried to help him. "Unless it's Camille or Jesse or Stan, I won't judge," I offered. He gave me a look of befuddlement.

"Rose, Jesse and Stan are male," he said.

"Really? I couldn't tell," I said innocently. He tried not to smirk.

I turned serious. "Mason. Spill."

"—a," he mumbled so quietly that I only caught the last part of her name.

"Who?"

"—a."

"Mason, if you don't speak up, I refuse to help you," I said.

He glared at the floor. "Mia."

I grinned like a little kid on Christmas morning. "Mia? Mia Rinaldi? Our Mia? Ashford, you have until lunchtime to ask her to the dance before I chop off your dick for chickening out."

"But what if**—**?" he started, but I cut him off.

"No buts. You are asking her out."

"But—"

"And she won't reject you. Trust me."

"But—"

I glared at him exasperatedly. "Mason Ashford, you have until lunchtime to ask her to homecoming before you begin losing body parts. _Capische_?"

He sighed. "Capische, caposche."

"Good. Now go back to your desk and start planning, Ashford."

He walked back, but stopped when I said, "By the way..."

He turned and I grinned. "When she says yes, you _so_ owe me."

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around, I was the only one without a date. Eddie and asked Jill before classes, and Adrian had managed to rope Sydney into going with him in the Bio class they were both in. And, of course, Mason had manned up and asked Mia, whom I would definitely have fun teasing over her initial denial of her own feelings.

I was planning on going stag, since there wasn't anyone I really wanted to go with. Well, there was, but I couldn't really show up with my teacher, so it was a moot point.

All that was really left was dress shopping, and we quickly decided to go this weekend. Unfortunately, we needed two teachers to accompany us. Alberta volunteered for one. That left one empty spot, and no one else had agreed yet.

"We could ask Mr. Tanner. Or Ms. Karp?" Lissa suggested.

Mia shook her head. "Nah, they only get weekends off, and they're going out."

"Yuri?" suggested Sydney.

"Busy," I said glumly. We all sat in silence for a minute before Eddie popped in.

"Belikov," he suggested ominously.

Jill gave him a look. "Eddie, do you really think that would work?"

Eddie grinned at her, gaze softening. Jill had managed to get her counselor to switch her schedule around so that she got moved into our lunch period, a fact that had Eddie jumping for joy.

"Get Rose to ask," he said. All heads swiveled to me. I sighed.

"I can ask, but I don't think he'll go."

That was enough for the female population of the table, and Lissa, Mia, Sydney, and Jill all squealed, conveniently forgetting that a 6'7" Russian was not likely to say yes.

* * *

I popped the question during dinner.

"So you know how you need two teachers to accompany you if you go off-campus on the weekends in a group?" I started. He raised an eyebrow.

"I am aware of that fact, yes," he said, nodding.

"Me and Lissa and Mia and Jill and Sydney were thinking of going dress shopping this weekend for Homecoming, so could you...maybe...gowithus?" I stammered, hoping that he wasn't laughing internally and thinking, _Wow, this girl is stupid_.

His lips twitched in amusement. "You want me to go dress shopping with you?"

I blushed. "No one else could go with us, besides Ms. Petrov."

He still looked like he was trying not to laugh. "And what's in it for me, Roza?"

I secretly did a happy dance at the nickname, although he'd said it plenty of times before. "Um..." I racked my brain, trying to think of something.

"How about you stop complaining about the drills we do, including the running, diving, and conditioning?" he proposed.

Of course, that was easier said than done, but as a teenage girl, it sounded worth it to me.

I smiled. "We have a deal, Comrade."

It was the most conversation we'd had in days.

* * *

"Why are you going stag to the dance, Rose?" asked Lissa that night after I told her that yes, we now had Dimitri to accompany us. I froze.

"Um...I don't like anyone," I said.

She rolled her green eyes at me. "Sure. But you could go as friends with someone."

I made a face. "That's what people do when they decide to be rejects together."

"You've never had a problem with it before. Seriously, is there someone you like?"

"No," I said, although in all honesty, it sounded false to my ears.

She looked at me gently. "Rose, you're a terrible liar."

I sighed. "Lissa, there's nothing to tell."

She sighed in exasperation. "Just because I have a date, that doesn't mean I'm oblivious, Rose."

"_I don't like anyone, Lissa_," I replied.

She gave me a dubious look.

Luckily for me, the lights turned out then, and we both groped our ways to our respective beds and climbed in. Her voice floated through the darkness.

"Don't think I'm letting this go, Rose..."

* * *

**Uh-oh, Lissa's onto something. Should Rose spill or not? Review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I know, it's been****—what? Two weeks? In my defense, all I can say is that I've had busy weekends and busy weekdays. Sorry.**** And just a heads up, I probably won't be able to update next week. I have yet another tournament eating up half my weekend, and homework devouring the other half.**  


**Hey, no one said high school was easy.**

**(Anyone get the reference?)  
**

* * *

Lissa didn't mention the date thing again for the next few days, but I knew she hadn't forgotten. Every time I interacted with anyone of the opposite sex and she was in the room, she watched me like a hawk. It was actually kind of creepy, but I knew she meant well. I just didn't think that stalking me was the answer.

Not to mention that she'd flip out if she figured out the truth.

Unfortunately, I couldn't quite focus on my new stalker, because I was too busy trying not to sleep in class. Dimitri was taking advantage of our deal and working me even harder, and while I knew I would improve, I didn't enjoy my lack of free speech when it came to working out. Still, I knew that my dress—as well as my friends'—was at stake. And I loved dresses.

So I bore it with a grimace and a glare, and tolerated the slight (but sexy) smirk that graced his face whenever he told me to run, or condition, or do anything, really.

Saturday couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

I hadn't expected trouble from Jesse after all that had happened, but I should have known he'd try to get me back for blackmailing him into silence.

It happened during lunch the day before we were supposed to go shopping. I was happily eating my beloved pizza and already calculating how many donuts I could eat while both satisfying myself _and_ not acting like a total pig (thank god for my metabolism, since I didn't have to factor in actually looking like a pig) when he sauntered up, the biggest shit-eating smirk on his face. Instinctively, I knew that no matter what he was about to try, it would not bode well for me.

"Hey, Rose," he said, the smirk never fading. I eyed him warily, trying to make him think of my last warning to him. His smirk wavered for a second, before it came back, full-blown.

"Jesse," I acknowledged. I shifted in my seat, both nerves and irritation. What on earth was he trying to do? And couldn't he at least let me finish my food first? I took a bite of pizza, trying to make him get the hint that I wanted to freaking _eat_.

He took a breath and attempted to stop smirking. It didn't really work. "Will you go to Homecoming with me?"

I almost spat out my food all over him. In retrospect, I kinda wish I had. He definitely deserved it.

"_Excuse_ me?!"

"Homecoming. With me."

I looked at him like he had two heads and five arms. "Hell, no."

"But—"

"I'm rejecting you, Zeklos. Get that into your head."

"But—don't you like me?"

I snorted. "No. Where the hell did you get _that_ idea?"

He fidgeted, the smirk now faded completely. "Well—when you agreed to, you know—"

I held up a hand. "Stop right there. Agreeing to that was me trying to get you to leave me alone without really listening to what you were saying."

He flushed a bright, angry red, unable to think of any retaliation.

"Plus, you drool too much."

Fifty shades of fire truck red, anyone?

"Also...next time you decide to ask a girl out as a joke..." I trailed off, enjoying his suddenly ashen blanch, and finally allowing myself to smirk. "Pick someone stupider."

"I—"

"Save it, Zeklos. No one has a shit-eating grin on their face right before asking a girl to Homecoming."

And with that, I got up to pick up a few donuts, leaving a very embarrassed Jesse Zeklos in my wake.

* * *

The next day, my friends still would not shut up about it.

"I can't believe—"

"—so amazing—"

"—my life's goal to see—"

"—everyone aspires to do that—"

"Argh, shut up!" I cried in frustration. Even Dimitri turned around at my outburst, an eyebrow raised. "Enough about Jesse!"

"Jesse Zeklos? The one who—"

I cut Dimitri off. "Yes, Comrade. THAT Jesse Zeklos."

"What did he do?"

I raised both eyebrows at him. "Teenage girl much? He asked me to Homecoming and forgot that I'm not an idiot and can tell when it's a joke. Not to mention that I'd reject him even if he'd been serious, but still."

He smirked slightly and turned back to the road. Lissa was watching him in a way that made me remember to act oblivious to all members of the male sex. Mia and Jill were watching as well, slightly shocked at the fact that's I'd managed to talk like that to Dimitri Freaking Belikov and he's only smirked in response. Sydney, of course, was too busy listening to an audiobook to really care either way.

Lissa turned to me then, appraising me not-so-subtly, and I mouthed _Really? My teacher?_ to her, rolling my eyes. She shrugged and turned back around, no giving much indication on whether or not she realized how absurd that sounded.

Never mind the fact that it was true.

I glanced at Dimitri. Since he was driving, I couldn't see much of him, but when I glanced at the rearview mirror, I swore I saw him watching me, before his eyes flitted back to the road.

* * *

After browsing for hours at the mall, everyone had found a dress. Well, everyone but me.

Lissa had found a pale green dress that accentuated her eyes and her lean physique. Mia had hooked a silver dress that seemed shapeless on the hanger, but looked great on her. Jill had fallen in love with a blue pick-me-up dress, and Sydney had gone for a purple gown.

Me? I was aimlessly rejecting every dress I laid my eyes on.

We finally reached the back of the mall, where a final store awaited. It didn't seem too popular, but it was my last shot at finding something I liked, so we walked in. I browsed through racks and racks of dresses, each one too long or short or uncomfortable, finally beginning to lose hope. And then I saw it.

It was a short black dress, tight and dangerous-looking. It showed off my curves and hid just enough that I wouldn't obtain an undesirable reputation.

I fell in love.

Lissa nodded, eyes wide. "That's your dress."

I grinned and nodded and caught Dimitri's eye. He had his game face on, but he was watching. "That's my dress."

* * *

When we got back, I still had training. Granted, it wasn't as intense as it usually was, but training was training. When I finally made it down to dinner after a nice, long shower, Dimitri was waiting for me.

We ate in relative silence. The season was starting in two weeks, and we were both a little on edge about that.

On the way back to the dorms, I tried to divert his mind from the deadline. "Did you see my dress today?" I asked him, saying the first thing that popped into my mind.

He was silent for a second, then replied, "Yes."

"Did you like it?"

No response. I pushed on.

"Will I endanger my reputation in it?"

He was once again silent. We arrived at the female senior dorms, and I turned to open the door. As I pulled it open, I heard him say so quietly that I wasn't entirely sure that I hadn't imagined it, "You'll endanger the school."

* * *

**A little RxD for y'all. And Lissa seems to be getting warmer...uh-oh. And, of course, a Jesse smackdown. Next chapter: Homecoming! Yeah, it was a little short, but I _do_ still have homework to do.  
**

**What Homecoming drama is in store for Rose? Review and tell me what you think!  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**So my Homecoming was last weekend, and it was really fun! I went stag with a bunch of my friends, and while the grind line did get quite large at the end, it was totally worth going to. And my Homecoming theme was City of Lights, which I adopted for Rose's Homecoming as well.  
**

* * *

The next week flew by as Homecoming loomed closer and closer. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that once Homecoming ended, Dimitri would crack down. There would be only one week left before tryouts after the dance.

But as of right now, he was going easy on me. Well, not easy, but not quite as hard as I'd been expecting. He hadn't intensified yet.

Lissa, however, was not allowing me leg room. If anything, the manhunt had intensified. And while I was grateful for the fact that she hadn't held onto her suspicions about Dimitri and me, I was still worried. After all these years, she could read me well, and I had no idea how well she could read into my relationship (or lack thereof) with Dimitri with the impropriety of it all in the back of her mind. With Lissa, it was hard to say how much she could see and how much her brain subconsciously chose not to. Also, I had no idea how obvious I was.

All thoughts of subtlety vanished when, after Friday's practice/dinner combo, Dimitri announced that he'd give me Saturday off, since that was Homecoming. We didn't have classes on Homecoming, either, which would give me more than enough time to meet with the group so we could prepare.

"Wait, what? Are you serious?" I asked excitedly.

He nodded. "I have three sisters. Believe me, I know how much time you'll need."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I said, jumping up and hugging him. Surprisingly, he hugged me back, after a moment of hesitation.

I realized then what I was doing, and pulled away, blushing. "Sorry."

He, too, looked embarrassed. "No, it's okay. Like I said, I have sisters. I know how excited a girl can get over a school dance."

I nodded, still blushing. "Right. Well, I'm just gonna go in now."

"Yes. I'll see you tomorrow," he grimaced. "I have to chaperone."

I bit back my laughter. "You'll survive, Comrade. Just don't look down if you're patrolling the shelf. And don't look at the front of the gym, where the music's playing. St. Vlad's has an infamous grind line."

He grimaced again and turned away to go, before he turned around again. "Don't get into trouble tomorrow, okay?"

"I won't," I frowned. Did he have no confidence in me?

"It's not that I don't trust you. It's just that after all the drama with Jesse, he might try to get you in trouble, and that could ruin your scholarship. Be careful, okay?" he said, answering my question like he could read my mind.

"I will. Goodnight, Comrade."

"Goodnight, Roza."

I tried to wipe of my smile at the nickname as I shut the door and made my way up to my dorm with Lissa, but I couldn't quite manage it.

* * *

The next morning, I was woken up by a very excited Lissa. For once, I was up after the sun, and surprisingly, it felt weird rather than good. I enjoyed not having to wake myself up, but I'd grown so accustomed to waking up before 5:00 that I felt as though I'd switched time zones.

"Wake up, Rose, and get in the shower! Jill and Sydney and Mia are coming soon, and you'd better be done by the time they get here! You have...eh, maybe fifteen minutes."

I dashed in and began showering like crazy. Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to go. I had just put on some clothes when there was a knock on our door and our friends ambled in, bearing their dresses, makeup bags, and various other accessories.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Since I was the last one up, I was also the last one to be made over. First, we'd straightened out Mia's unruly curls with Lissa's straightener, and then we'd moved onto makeup. The final touch was the dress and shoes, and Mia was done.

Jill, like Mia, had been easy to prep. She's braided her hair the night before, so it fell down in soft waves. She had also come up with a makeup plan for herself, so we hadn't had to come up with anything.

Sydney, however, took a while. We couldn't figure out what to do with her hair. It was naturally straight, which meant that it was flexible and we could let loose. I wanted curls, Lissa wanted a crimp, and Sydney wanted it as it was. In the end, Sydney won, because it was her hair, after all. The makeup was easier, although we'd argued a little bit on the exact eyeshadow shade (my idea, dark purple, won).

Lissa, like Jill had been easy. The only reason she even needed up there was to help her do things. She had even written down her plan.

And then there was me. Complicated, impossible me. It was truly lucky that Jill and Lissa had been fast, because boy, did it take a while to agree on me. Since my dress had the most versatile color, everyone decided to argue over how I should look, never mind the fact that I had my own opinion. Eventually, I got them to compromise according to my position: wavy hair and makeup that wasn't super thick.

As I shimmied into my dress, I glanced at the clock. 5:30. Okay. I had two hours before the dance started. I could actually eat.

Since we were allowed to order food for school dances (we weren't allowed to go off-campus, and no one wanted to eat at the cafeteria now), Mia called up an Italian restaurant and ordered pasta.

While chowing down on my Chicken Fettucine Alfredo, I reflected on what Dimitri had said about Jesse. He was right, in a sense. Jesse would not let the rejection go easily. But taking into account that as of right now, I had the upper hand, there wasn't too much he could do. He was still buying into my blackmail, and I had shot him down quite publicly. And with my "Rosie the Riveter" past, it would take quite the plan to get me back. And I didn't believe that Jesse was smart enough to come up with such a plan. Still, Dimitri wasn't stupid, nor was he oblivious. And if he was worried, then that was something I would have to be careful about.

I hadn't realized that Lissa had asked me a question until she waved a hand in front of my face. "Rose? You there?"

I blinked, blushed a little, and muttered, "Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about something. What did you say?"

She smiled slightly. "I asked if you were going to dance at all tonight. Or if you wanted anyone in particular to dance with you, since you're stag."

I grinned, trying not to show her how obvious she was being. "Eh, I'll probably just butterfly around. Avoid the grind line. Recommend half the songs they play. Maybe prank someone."

She looked somewhat unhappy at my vague answer. "So what were you thinking about earlier?"

Telling the truth couldn't hurt in this case, right?

"I was worried that Jesse might try something to get me in trouble tonight."

Mia raised an eyebrow. "Dude. You've got him backed into a corner. What could he do?"

"I don't know, but he'll want revenge somehow. And I can't afford to get in trouble with tryouts a week away," I said. "And I'm not the only one who's worried. Dimitri is, too."

"You're on a first-name basis with him now?" said Sydney.

I gave her a weird look. "We always were."

I caught Lissa's eye. She was studying me once again, looking for any signs of there being something going on. I rolled my eyes at her, and she looked away. Jill started talking about how excited she was now that she was an upperclassman, and the subject was dropped.

* * *

Our Homecoming theme this year was City of Lights, and as I stared at the gym, I was impressed. Student Council had handed out glow necklaces to everyone to wear around their heads like a halo (or a crown, depending on how you wanted to look at it), and in the darkened gym , it was like a light show. Of course, the disco ball and and colorful lights and the streamers had helped, too.

I had been here for about an hour now, and I was standing awkwardly at the back of the gym. "Someone Like You" was playing, and as I was one of the few stag seniors, almost everyone I knew was making out with their date. The sad thing was, the grind line was already in full effect, so the kissing was actually an improvement.

I walked out of the gym to get a drink. I hadn't realized how awkward it would be to be the only single girl in my group of friends, but I was definitely feeling it now.

As I filled up my cup, I felt someone up behind me. Instinctively, I whirled around, hoping it was just a friend.

Unfortunately, it was Jesse.

"Hey, Rose."

I stared at him, trying to decipher his reason for approaching me, but he was wearing his signature smirk. "What do you want, Jesse?" I asked tiredly.

"Will you dance with me?"

"Dance meaning dance, or dance meaning grind?" I asked. He froze.

"Um..."

"That's what I thought," I replied. "Give it up, Jesse. I don't like you, and you don't like me. And I don't grind."

"I do like you," he protested. I highly doubted that this was the truth, but as it was, it didn't really matter when I knew my own feelings.

"Then I'm sorry, Jesse, but the feeling isn't mutual." And with that, I walked back into the gym.

* * *

When I got back in, a new song had started up. I wasn't reflecting too much on the recent Jesse confrontation. It was getting old.

"What took you so long out there?" yelled Lissa over "Gangnam Style".

"Jesse tried to get me to grind with him!" I yelled back.

"What did you say?"

"I rejected him. Again!"

Lissa smirked slightly. "I think that we're going to have to do something about that."

* * *

I spotted Dimitri around the time the Cha Cha Slide came on. Without thinking, I went up to talk to him.

"Hey, Comrade," I said over the music. "How's your Homecoming been so far?"

He grimaced. "You were right about the grind line."

I snickered. "Jesse came up to me."

"What did he do?" he said, instantly on edge.

"He asked me to dance—dance meaning grind—with him. Don't worry, I shot him down. Again."

"He hasn't given up yet?" he asked. "Wow."

"He said that he likes me, but I doubt it," I drawled.

Dimitri thought for a moment. "He actually might, but he's got a bad way of showing it."

I wrinkled my nose. "Let's hope you're wrong about that."

I glanced around, watching everyone dance in unison to the song, and suddenly, I decided to let my reckless side loose.

"Wanna dance? Even the chaperones are doing it." It was true; I had spotted Mr. Nagy, Alberta, and Stan all dancing along. The Cha Cha Slide was one of those things you could dance to, no matter how old you were.

He shook his head. "I don't think that would be very appropriate."

I smirked. "Alberta, Stan, and Mr. Nagy don't seem to agree."

"Yes, but dancing with a student—"

"It's the Cha Cha Slide, Comrade. It's the universal dance-along song."

"I—"

That was when I got it. "Dimitri...you _do_ know how the dance goes, right?"

He hesitated. "...No."

I smiled. "I'll teach you."

"_One hop this time_..."

I danced along through one verse. "It's easy. Just follow whatever he says."

He hesitantly stood next to me.

"_Slide to the left_." We slid easily.

_"Slide to the right_." And we slid back.

"See? It's easy."

Actually, it wasn't. The slides, for whatever reason, were the only moves he got the timing right to. I had no idea why. Still, we simply danced along to those two moves.

_Slide to the left, slide to the right_.

When the song ended, I turned to him. "See? You got two moves down. One day, you'll be able to dance along to the whole thing."

He smiled one of his rare smiles, brown eyes flickering with the colored lights of the room, and my breath caught in my throat. His face was _so close_. If he leaned in, he could easily kiss me. "One day, Roza. One day."

* * *

The rest of the night passed in a blur. We danced, we sang, and didn't grind. Jesse tried to approach me several more times, but I lost myself in the crowd every time I saw him coming for me.

I didn't speak to Dimitri the rest of the night. I noticed him a few times, and every time I looked at him, he seemed to be watching me. I shook off the thought. Why would he watch me?

As Lissa and I lay in our beds, she said, "Why were you dancing with Mr. Belikov during the Cha Cha Slide?"

I smiled softly in the darkness. "He was the only one not dancing to it. Even Mr. Nagy, Alberta, and Stan were dancing along. And plus, I needed to talk to him about the Jesse thing anyway."

Lissa turned and faced me, green eyes glittering in the darkness. "Why would he care about Jesse?"

"He doesn't want me to get in trouble. That could ruin everything and destroy my chances for tryouts. And Jesse definitely had a motive for screwing me over."

"He cares about you."

I froze. "Well, yeah, he's my mentor."

"More than that. He's...protective. You can see it in his eyes. It's like he doesn't want you to get hurt."

"Is he supposed to want it?" I asked defensively.

"No, that's not what I meant. It's just—you two are close. Closer than what a normal student-mentor relationship would be."

I rolled over to face her. "I don't know, Liss. I guess we just get each other."

"Do you like him?" she asked, and I froze.

"Lissa, he's my teacher," I said slowly.

"That's not what I asked," she said quietly. "I asked if you like him."

Pause.

"It's okay if you do, Rose."

I took a breath, unsure of how to respond, and quickly weighed each option. Not telling her was safer, but she'd figure it out eventually and, presumably, get mad that I didn't tell her the truth when asked, and I didn't want to risk our friendship. But telling anyone, even Lissa, who wouldn't say a word, could be bad for both of us, even if nothing was going on. But if I waited too long to answer, that would be answer enough.

I opened my mouth, becoming resolute in my decision. "I—"

* * *

**Cliffie! Hey, it had to happen sometime, right?**

**So what should Rose do? Tell her now, or let Lissa stay in the dark (well, semi-dark, since she's already pretty much figured it out).  
**

**Review and tell me what you think!  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Yeah, I know. I don't even wanna know how long, exactly, it's been since an update. All I can really say in my defense is that between volleyball, debate, newspaper, school, and flute, my life has been pretty busy, and will continue to be busy, so you might not get an update for a while after this. I also realize that I haven't even written a long chapter to make up for it. Sorry. It's definitely a (necessary) transition chapter, so the next one should be a lot more exciting (and probably a lot longer).  
**

**Do you remember a few chapters back, when we hit 50 reviews and I promised to reward you? And I never did? I've decided, since we're nearing 100, that I would, instead, start a new story, and for every 50 reviews this story gets total, that'll be the number of chapters. So assuming I get at least 2 reviews for this chapter, my reward will be a two-shot. The more reviews, the longer the story. If I accumulate enough chapters, I'll just make an actual story rather than a ficlet.  
**

**Sound good?**

* * *

"I—we're friends, sort of," I stuttered. "Of course I like him."

Her voice went flat. "Rose."

I rolled over to face the wall. "What does it matter if I do?" I asked, my voice muffled.

Lissa paused for a minute. "Because, Rose, he's your teacher. And you're acting different with him than all the other guys you've liked. It's like there's...I don't know, _more_."

"And you figured this out...how?"

"You really aren't as subtle as you'd like to think, Rose."

I faced her again. "Why does it matter if I have a stupid crush on him, Lissa? It doesn't mean anything."

She shook her head, green eyes glinting in the darkness. "Yes, it does, Rose."

"Why?"

"Because he's your teacher, and it's illegal," she said.

"Exactly. He's my _teacher_, Liss. I'd be a fool to fall in love with him."

"We're all fools in love, Rose. And he cares about you, too."

I blanched. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What?"

She rolled her eyes. "He cares about you. He's protective. He actually smiles around you. For God's sake, you got him to _dance_."

I couldn't think of anything to say for a moment, and by the time I'd found my voice again, Lissa was yawning and saying goodnight, and I was left alone to my own thoughts.

* * *

The next morning, I got up earlier than usual to get ready for my lesson, trying not to mull over what Lissa said (and completely failing).

Was it true? And if it was, what was I going to do?

I walked slowly down the gym. It was early enough that it was still cold, and involuntarily, I shivered a bit. The sun hadn't risen yet, making the sky a rich, dark blue. Unbidden, the phrase _It's always darkest before dawn_ rose to my mind. I has always liked the way the quote sounded, but even I had to admit that the timing of my thought had been awfully cheesy.

I opened and closed the doors gently, still lost in my thoughts, and managed to collide with Dimitri about two steps in. In all honesty, I probably should've noticed a 6'7" dark spot heading towards me, but hey, when your best friend tells you that not only do you have a major crush on your teacher, but that he also feels the same way about you, you'd be out of it, too.

"Oh, hi," I said dumbly after I'd regained my bearings. The corner of his mouth twitched, which was basically the equivalent of him snickering at my response, and I felt my face turn at least five shades redder than normal.

"Hi," he said smoothly, and continued pulling the target along.

I stretched and warmed up quietly as he brought out all the equipment. By the time I'd completed two laps, he was done and joined me.

I suppressed to urge to talk to him (I'd learned the hard way that talking while running didn't exactly make it easier) and finished with him, managing to keep up with his long legs and seemingly endless stamina. By the time we'd finished, I was breathing hard.

As we walked in together, I said, "So how was your Homecoming?"

"I'm scarred for life."

I snorted. "But for us non-grinders, it was actually fun."

"For us non-dancers, it wasn't."

I grinned. "Ah, but Comrade, you _did_ dance. Remember, the Cha Cha Slide?"

He muttered something under his breath, but I managed to catch "Slide to the left, slide to the right" along with what I assumed was a string of Russian words.

Smirking, I said, "Maybe I'll teach you the whole dance sometime."

* * *

I had been right about the crackdown: Dimitri was brutal. By the time I had to practice that night, I was as sore as I had been when I'd first started. But I dragged my ass to practice anyway, because I _did_ need the scholarship, after all.

Also, I wanted to see him again. Hey, can you blame me?

And so it continued, day after day. I didn't dare complain about it to him, since I knew I'd gotten better. At lunch, even Sydney had been worried that I was working too hard, but without thinking, I'd assured her that I wasn't. Six weeks ago, I would have been complaining with her, and I was quite proud of myself for having matured enough to recognize that I needed the training. I suspected that it had something to my hanging around the Zen Master so much.

Things had gotten much easier between Lissa and I, now that she knew the truth. She was discreet, and although I felt some anxiety at having _anyone_ know, it was best that it was Lissa, and not someone else, who had found out.

Her relationship with Christian had been slowly growing. He hadn't grown the balls to ask her out yet (though I couldn't believe that she didn't see all the puppy-dog looks directed at her), but it was coming. I was glad I hadn't interfered. As it turned out, Christian wasn't the freak everyone made him out to be. Sure, some of the things he had done in the past, like the fire incident, had been questionable, but he would be good for her. I knew he would be.

At one point, I tried talking to Lissa about it.

"So," I said nonchalantly one night as we were about to sleep.

She instantly became suspicious. "Out with it, Rose."

I tried to suppress a grimace. She knew me too well.

"A girl can't talk to her friend without having an agenda?" I asked innocently.

She gave me a dubious look. "You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The look that tells me you're up to something."

Damn. I couldn't really say anything to that, because it was probably true.

I sighed. "Fine. I wanted to talk to you about Christian."

At that, she blushed—heavily—and said, "Christian?" in a faux-confused voice. She had never been a good liar.

I rolled my eyes at her. "You were never a good liar," I said, voicing my thought. Her face turned pinker.

"What about Christian?"

I grinned at her. "He's cute, isn't he?"

She climbed into bed, blonde hair partially obscuring her face, but even that couldn't mask the obvious red tinge to those pale cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."

I snickered. "Keep telling yourself that, Liss. Whatever floats your boat."

* * *

I also tried talking to Christian about it.

"Oi! Pyro! I need to talk to you."

He sighed and walked over. "What do you want?"

"For you to man up and ask Lissa out already."

He blanched. "Where'd you get that idea from?"

I stifled a groan and glared at him. "You two are so deep in denial right now, I don't know how you'll ever get back out of Egypt."

"That was a terrible joke."

"Don't change the subject. You need to grow a pair and ask her out. No, really. She likes you back, despite her many see-through protestations. You two really need to work on facing the truth."

He groaned. "What will it take to make you shut up about this?"

I grinned. Now we were talking.

"For you to get her to go on a date with you."

* * *

By the end of the week, Christian and Lissa were still single, Lissa was still convinced that Dimitri felt something for me, and nothing had happened to convince me that she was right. In fact, he's remained curiously standoffish since our "Cha Cha Slide" conversation, save for the usual, "You'll do great at tryouts tomorrow" spiel. But even then, he had been oddly generic.

But when I woke up Saturday morning and began getting ready for tryouts with Lissa, my love life was the last thing on my mind.


	13. Chapter 13

**So! I'm back!...Don't kill me, please? My only actual defense is that I really had no idea what to write for this chapter, and while this is pretty short, hopefully this'll help me segue into later chapters.  
**

* * *

_1 month later_

* * *

"I'm so sweaty," said Lissa, wrinkling her nose. "Is this seriously what you were getting up early to do every day?"

"Nope," I smirked. "I got up early to get even sweatier. How come he made me run miles for warmups but not you guys?"

Lissa shrugged. "I'm not complaining."

Mia and Jill might have once been in the conversation with us, too, but they'd quit junior year, citing busy schedules and a decline in interest. And Sydney wasn't athletic, we'd learned.

We had just come out of practice after classes, and, true to form, Dimitri was relentless in his trainings, though maybe not quite as tough as he had been on me yet. Still, even with my preparedness for the onslaught, I wasn't immune to it. Although, to be fair, I was so used to his conditioning that it was almost refreshing to hear my teammates complain about how sore they were and realize that I was not in pain. Now that Dimitri had stopped our private trainings, it was clear just how much I had improved over the past few weeks.

Since I was on the team, I'm sure you've guessed by now that tryouts had gone well for me. And they had, in a way. I mean, I was on as first setter. And I was definitely having an easier time adjusting to the touch training regimen that Dimitri had in store for us.

And yet...

My social life was suffering.

For one thing, I rarely had free time anymore. There was a vast difference in the rigor of trainings between a freshman team and a varsity team, and I didn't get to see many of my non-volleyball friends outside of classes anymore. I could still text and go on Facebook to check up on Mia, Jill, Mason, Christian, Sydney, Eddie, and Adrian, but face-to-face talking was basically limited to the school day.

And for another...well, if anyone was angry about my placement on the team, it was Camille Conta, who had been demoted to DS because of that. I honestly am not sure if she was actually surprised or not, but she was _pissed_ anyway. She hadn't actually done anything apart from ignoring me and making little comments here and there, but with her swarms of sycophantic followers, it felt like half the school not-so-secretly hated me.

But it was worth it. Making the team was completely worth it, I told myself. Still, it would've been nice to not be glared at every time I walked into a room.

* * *

As far as actual practice went, it wasn't that bad—at least not for me. My teammates, however, were suffering through Dimitri's preference for hard workouts and hard practices, and while it was now something I was acclimated to, they had not quite adjusted.

Dimitri smirked slightly at me as I finished the round of sprints he'd made us do far faster than everyone else. "First again, Roza?"

I shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant as I wiped the sweat from my eyes. "Yeah, I wonder how I got so fast," I quipped.

His smirk got a little wider as finally, Jill managed to hit the endline a few seconds after me. "Your speed has improved, Meredith," he said. "Try to beat Rose next time."

I snorted quietly as I gulped water down. As if that was going to happen soon.

As the rest of my team finished chugging water, I sauntered back onto the court. Once everyone was done drinking, Dimitri said, "Alright, girls. Let's get back to serve receive..."

Everyone groaned.

* * *

After practice, Dimitri called to me as I was leaving. "Rose. Can I speak with you?"

Frowning, I nodded and walked back over. Was something wrong?

When I was within speaking distance, he began talking. "You've improved a lot, Roza, from when you first started." He paused. "But I think we should resume private training. Your footwork still need some work—you tend to forget it when you have to move backwards, and I think the easiest way to rememdy that is by resuming our sessions."

I nodded slowly. I wasn't happy to be told that I was still doing something wrong, but it was true—I _did_ move awkwardly.

A sneaky voice inside me whispered gleefully, _And Rose, you'll also get to spend more time with him_.

"Okay," I said, trying to shut the voice up.

He smiled at me then. "Good. I'll see you tomorrow morning."


	14. Chapter 14: AN

**A/N: Sorry guys, but this ain't a chapter. I realize that the gaps between updates have grown longer...and longer...and longer...and to be honest, it doesn't look like that's going to change soon. When I started this story, I had a fairly good idea of how I wanted this to go, but this past year has been pretty busy for me and, well, I've also been reconsidering the direction this story will go. I'm not planning on changing anything I've already written, but I need to rethink the plotline of this story, and to do so, I'm going to have to put this on temporary hiatus. I'm not abandoning it by any means, but you guys deserve better than months of silence broken by crappy, short chapters. When I've gotten it sorted out, I'll delete this AN and replace it with a new chapter. I'm really sorry, but I'll try to get back by the end of this summer.**


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